


COLOR-TV

by Invader_FanGirl



Category: COMMUNICATIONS Series - GHOST, GHOST | GHOST and Pals (Musician)
Genre: (characters are to be added as the fanfic updates), Because this is a power struggle on live television, Chapter 3 has some stuff with needles so... just a warning, Crack AU, Gen, Grevious injury warning for Chapter 4, Wanna see a power struggle on live television?, attempt at comedy, tv show au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invader_FanGirl/pseuds/Invader_FanGirl
Summary: (Crackfic) AU where Kennith actually has his own television show! A variety show, as a matter of fact, where anyone and everyone can be a part of C-O-L-O-R!





	1. Episode 1: Pilot / A Recipe For Entropy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so… this was written on a whim, honestly. I didn’t plan this at all, the idea just popped into my head like three days ago and I just decided to write it. And somehow I finished it? Which is weird. Anyway, please keep in mind that I didn’t do any in-depth character analysis of Kennith or his guest star for the show. And I’m probably not going to for future “episodes,” either. So please don’t judge this too harshly, haha. With that in mind, I hope you enjoy the show!

One minute until showtime.

Kennith noted this as he took another glance at the wall clock next to him. He should probably get ready for his entrance. Heaving a sigh to steady himself, he got up from his folding chair and went over to the large red curtain that led to the stage outside.

From behind the curtain, Kennith could hear the various murmurings of the audience. They were probably talking about what the show was going to be about. Of course they would be wondering of what's to come; they were sitting in the dark and could barely see the stage. And this was also the pilot episode, so...

Kennith took another breath, held it, and then sighed again.

No pressure!

Absolutely _no_ pressure!

Kennith was about to sneak a peek from the side of the curtain when his theme song began playing on the speakers outside: his cue to begin. Well, that settles it. He was actually doing this. And he was going to be great! And his show was going to be amazing!

He put a hand on the curtain and steeled himself. Before any doubts could arise in his mind, he ran through the curtain and onto the stage.

It's showtime.

* * *

From the darkened studio set, stage lights suddenly flicked on to reveal the stage: a floor that was rounded into the shape of an oval, jutting out towards the audience. At the middle of the stage a leather chair sat next to a sturdy wooden table that had five small TVs piled onto it; the chair and table angled as to face each other and the audience. On the far wall behind this setup was an array of screens that were currently powered off. Above the screens there was a neon sign reading "COLOR-TV" in multicolored letters, and two signs reading "APPLAUSE" to the left and right of it. The signs were flickering in time to the music that was playing. To the right of the stage, there was an elevated platform that held up a rounded wall, blank and unassuming for the moment.

And of course, at the front and center of the stage, Kennith stood with his arms spread out and poised; a microphone in his right hand, and his left hand open with his palm facing up. The audience cheered as he appeared, and they clapped along to the music that bleared through the stage's speakers.

"Hello everyone, and welcome to COLOR-TV!" Kennith announced, signaling with one hand for the music to fade out. As it did, the audience also quieted down. "I'm your host, Kennith Simmons! And today, I'm proud to debut our first ever episode of COLOR-TV. Give yourselves a round of applause for joining me on this journey!" he said, and the audience responded in kind with cheering.

Kennith patiently waited for the audience to stop with a smile. Once they were done, he spoke up. "Now, I thought I'd explain what my show is about," he began, fiddling with the wire of the microphone. "Well, I'm thinking that it's going to be a variety show, so basically, I'm open to experimenting! And I hope I can get feedback from you, my lovely audience, on what you all enjoy!"

The audience began clapping again, because that's just what audiences do, as Kennith hurried over to the pile of TVs and climbed them in order to sit at the top. After making himself as comfortable as possible, he gestured with one hand to the curtain at the far left of the stage. "So, let's get this show started with my special guest! A good friend of mine and a potential new friend to you all: let's welcome People-Pleaser!"

A different song began playing from the speakers as a girl emerged from the curtains and ran onto the stage. The girl had short white hair with a streak of black through it, and wore gray shorts with white suspenders, a black t-shirt that was tucked into her shorts, black high-heels with garter belts and matching black stockings.

The girl grinned as she ran to the front of the stage and waved at the cheering audience, and she drank in all of the attention for a moment before going over to the chair opposite Kennith and took a seat. "Glad to be on the show, Kennith!" she chirped as the music died down.

"Ah, that's _my_ line," Kennith chided jokingly. "But anyway, we're all _pleased_ to have you, People-Pleaser!" he said, and the audience applauded as if to emphasize what he said.

"Oh no, call me Obsequious," the girl offered, and the audience chuckled at the joke. "It's much easier. And it sounds nicer! Wouldn't you all agree?" Obsequious waved one hand towards the audience, and the crowd made various sounds of agreement.

Kennith blinked once in confusion, but continued anyway. "You seem much more excited for the show than you were backstage, Obsequious. I'm surprised! I was starting to think that maybe you weren't cut out for this," he commented.

"Oh, yeah, I _was_ nervous!" Obsequious agreed. "Super, _super_ nervous! But then I thought about the lovely audience that awaited me behind the curtain, and after a couple of breaths I just—" she shrugged with her arms bent at her sides, "—suddenly had the courage to perform! And I don't feel scared at all!" she said with a wide smile.

While the audience applauded Obsequious' courage, Kennith just stared at her. "That's... oddly specific."

"What do you mean?"

"Just..." Kennith started, before he thought better of it and stopped. "Never mind. Let's just get on with the show," he said, trying to keep a cheerful tone. He reached behind the TVs and grabbed a blue remote.

"Ooh, finally!" Obsequious was practically vibrating in her seat. She looked out into the crowd. "Are you all excited?" she called out, and the audience responded in cheers as usual.

Kennith frowned, but said nothing of it. Instead, he pressed a button on the remote.

The elevated platform on the right of the stage began to turn, and the rounded wall turned along with it to reveal what was an approximation of a kitchen on the miniature stage. Complete with multiple counters, a stove, oven, sink, and other appliances, it was essentially a fully furnished kitchen for a tiny house.

"So, I know that you like desserts, Obsequious," Kennith began. "Isn't that right?"

"Of course! I mean, who _doesn't,_ right?" Obsequious answered, looking pointedly at the audience. There was a pause, and then the audience gave a quieter-than-normal cheer.

Kennith followed her gaze for a moment before looking back at her. "...Right. Well, I thought that since you love desserts so much, this episode's gonna be—"

"—a cooking episode!" Obsequious interrupted. "No, wait, I mean it's a baking episode!" she announced, still looking at the crowd. "Yeah, we're gonna go bake a bunch of goodies! That sounds fun, doesn't it?" she spoke to the audience, waiting for approval.

The audience gave a few uncertain murmurs, and heads turned as they all looked at each other nervously. Then they fell into an awkward silence.

Kennith had enough. "Obsequious, look at me."

She did so, still wearing a bright smile. "Yes?"

"Are you trying to act like me?"

"...Yes."

"Why."

"Well, it's what everyone likes, isn't it?" She gestured towards the audience. "Everyone so far has been cheering you on, so I just thought that if I was acting like you, people would enjoy it! Is it working?"

Kennith stared at her. Obsequious stared back. "What?" she asked, oblivious.

"Nothing. Please just... be yourself from now on," Kennith said with a pleading smile.

Obsequious blinked twice at the very suggestion, as if she was struggling to process it. "Be... myself?" she echoed. "What do you—"

 _"Anyway!_ Let's actually start the show for real now, okay?" Kennith hurriedly spoke over her.

A small clip of Kennith's theme played as Kennith hopped off of the TVs and headed over to the elevated platform. Obsequious stayed in her seat for a second longer, thinking, before finally deciding to follow him. By the time she arrived, Kennith was wearing a chef hat and apron and standing behind a counter facing the audience.

"Welcome to our new segment, 'Cooking with Kennith!' I'm your host, Kennith Simmons!" he declared, earning a few cheers from the audience. "Joining me today is Obsequious, whom I _think_ I can consider a connoisseur of all things sweet?" He looked to Obsequious for confirmation.

"Huh?" Obsequious said, seeming to snap out of a trance. "Oh, oh yeah, I love desserts! Probably more than anything!" she responded, playing along.

"Well, I think you'll be happy to hear what we're doing today," Kennith said, taking out a mixing bowl from the cabinet below him. "Today, we're baking a cake! Specifically, chocolate cake!"

Obsequious' eyes lit up. "Oh, that's actually my favorite!"

“I know!” Kennith tried to match her enthusiasm from earlier as he brought out the rest of the materials and ingredients. “And to make this even _more_ fun, we’re going to make this cake in fifteen minutes!”

Obsequious’ smile faltered. “Wait, what?”

“Thaaat’s right! We’re going to make the batter, frosting, _and_ bake the _whole_ cake in _fifteen minutes!”_ Kennith declared, not appearing to be worried at all about what he was saying.

“Wait a minute, Kennith—”

 _“Aaand_ if we don’t finish on time, we’re going to eat whatever we’ve made, whether it’s done or not!”

“Kennith I don’t know how to bake hold on—”

 _“I don’t either!”_ Kennith finally acknowledged Obsequious as he looked at her. Obsequious flinched; his eyes were manic. “I’ve never baked anything in my life! But that’s the fun of it all!”

The crowd gave its approval, and Obsequious suddenly felt unsure of herself. “You told me that I was going to taste test some desserts, not bake a cake,” she weakly protested.

“Oh, did I?” Kennith asked, feigning innocence. “Well, you’re _basically_ taste testing. After we make the cake, that is,” he said, as if that was a reasonable explanation.

“But—”

“Okay, timer’s set!” Kennith waved towards the array of screens at the far wall at the middle of the stage, which now displayed a countdown reading ‘15:00:00’ in red font. “Ready?”

“Wait—”

“Set…”

“Please—”

“Go!” Kennith jumped into action, ripping open a bag of flour with wild abandon and pouring a random amount of flour into a bowl. “Obsequious, there’s a recipe on the counter behind us, go grab it!” he commanded.

“Uhhh—” Obsequious said dumbly, rushing to said counter, where she found a piece of laminated paper. “Why didn’t you wait for me to get the recipe before you—”

“Fifteen minutes, _just read it!”_

"Okay, okay!" Obsequious finally relented. Her eyes nervously skimmed the recipe, looking for anything to do with mixing the ingredients. "Umm, it says that you're supposed to put all of the dry ingredients into one bowl..."

"Got it!" Kennith responded by pouring a sickening amount of sugar and cocoa powder into the bowl, causing a puff of the mixture to fly up into his face. He doubled over and grabbed the counter with one hand as he hacked and coughed.

Obsequious was growing increasingly distraught. "Kennith, are you alright?!"

"I'm _fine,_ " Kennith wheezed, clearly _not_ fine, "Just keep reading!"

"Oh, well, wait—" Obsequious looked over the paper again. "We were supposed to preheat the oven, put some things onto the baking pans, and mix the wet ingredients. And also, you aren't measuring any of the ingredients?? Which you _really_ should be—"

 _"Fifteen minutes,_ Obsequious!" Kennith repeated, somehow gathering the strength to add baking soda, baking powder, and salt into the bowl. "Skip the preheating thing and just do the wet ingredients!"

Obsequious gulped. Just thinking about what the cake was going to be like already made her nauseous. She headed over to Kennith's counter, where another bowl was sitting, and began adding a couple of eggs into it. She even took the time to separate the eggs.

Kennith watched her from the corner of his eye as he mixed his own bowl. Obsequious gingerly poured buttermilk, water, vanilla, and vegetable oil into her bowl. She wasn't measuring anything either, but she was notably more gentle than Kennith was.

His gaze then flew over to the countdown. Ten minutes.

They didn't have time for this. "What don't you get by _'fifteen minutes?!'_ Give me that!" Kennith yelled, snatching the barely-mixed bowl from Obsequious. He then poured her ingredients into his bowl, causing Obsequious to cry out in alarm.

_"Why did you do that?!"_

"Doesn't it say that the ingredients are supposed to be combined anyway?!"

"Yeah, but that's after both types of ingredients are mixed _separately!"_

"Whatever! They're getting mixed right _now!_ " Kennith demonstrated this by stirring harder. "Go do whatever you're supposed to do to the baking pans!"

"Why are we yelling?!"

"I don't know!"

"AAAAAHH!"

"AAAAAAHH!!!"

After that meaningful exchange, Obsequious did as she was told and brought out two large round baking pans. She then grabbed a stick of butter and began meticulously greasing the insides of the—

"Obsequious, if you don't hurry up, then _so help me—"_

—okay, she began _hurriedly_ greasing the insides of each pan, nearly snapping the stick of butter in half in the process. Grabbing a handful of cocoa powder, she quickly dusted the pans in uneven layers of coating, before moving on and lining each pan with probably-correct measurements of parchment.

Obsequious then looked over at Kennith for approval. "Was that fast enough?"

"Plenty. _Now move!"_ Kennith half-shoved Obsequious out of the way so that he could pour the kinda-chunky batter into the pans. Some of the batter missed the mark and dripped onto the counter, but most of it made it into the baking pans. "Okay, now go turn the oven on."

Why _now?_ They were supposed to preheat the oven before everything else, but...

"Okay." Obsequious gave up on trying to argue. She went over to the oven and hesitated. "Wait... this isn't an oven," she observed, noticing the unfamiliar design.

"No, it is," Kennith said, his smile coming back. "It's a specially-made oven invented by yours truly!" he proudly declared. "Basically, we can bake this cake in five minutes."

"Oh... wow."

"Yeah. Now are you going to stand there, or are you going to press the 'on' button?"

"Oh, uh, right," Obsequious said before pushing said button. Uncharacteristic of a typical oven, it began humming as it was powered on.

Kennith hastily put on safety goggles and mittens, and after picking up both pans, he went over to the oven and put them both on the stove. "Might wanna stand back a little. The temperature is nearly nuclear in there," he warned.

Obsequious obediently took a couple of steps back as Kennith opened the door of the oven. Immediately, a wave of intense heat flew out, startling both of them as well as the audience. Kennith quickly threw both pans into the oven and closed the door. Fortunately, the temperature of the studio evened out afterwards.

"Alright! And now we work on the frosting," Kennith ordered. He glanced towards the timer. "Eight minutes. That leaves us with three minutes to decorate the cake," he said as he walked to the counter again.

Obsequious followed him. "Do we have to rush this one too?" she asked tentatively.

"Nah, not really. If I remember correctly, it's just two ingredients. We even have time to measure them out."

"Oh, thank god."

Making the frosting was indeed, much easier. With Kennith reading the instructions this time, Obsequious measured and stirred correct amounts of whip cream and powdered sugar into a small bowl. Then the bowl was placed into the fridge to cool.

Obsequious breathed a sigh and looked at the timer. "Five minutes. We have two more minutes until the cake is done," she noted.

"Yep! And now we wait," Kennith said, jumping onto the counter behind him and sitting down on it. Seeing this, Obsequious opted to just lean on the counter opposite him. Because his was covered in flour, batter, and whatever else. Kennith didn't seem to care.

The studio was silent. There were a few mutterings within the audience, but not much else. Kennith absentmindedly kicked his legs from where he sat, and Obsequious drummed her fingers on the counter.

The silence was getting a little suffocating. Kennith spoke up, "Boy, we sure made a mess, huh?"

"Yeah, I don't understand why you didn't tell me to wear something else before coming on set," Obsequious played along, dusting off some flour that was on her black shirt. "This is my favorite outfit..."

Kennith laughed. "Well, _I'm_ wearing one of my favorite outfits."

"Hm..." Obsequious hummed, before she noticed something. "Wait, but you're wearing an apron! Why didn't I get an apron?!"

"Uh, 'cause I'm the host?"

"That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair."

 _"Well—!"_ Without stopping to think about it, Obsequious reached into the bag of flour beside her, took a handful of flour, and threw it at Kennith.

Kennith tried to dodge, but inevitably got covered in the dust. "Hey!" he exclaimed, looking for something to throw back. He saw the egg carton, and quickly flipped it open, grabbed a couple of eggs, and lobbed them at Obsequious.

Obsequious squeaked as the eggs hit her. "Dude, at least I used powder!"

"Serves you right! Hahaha— _ow!"_ Kennith's laugh was cut off as a stick of butter hit him square on the head. Despite his new headache, he grinned. "Alright, _now_ it’s on—"

Kennith was about to reach for an entire bottle of vegetable oil when a ding resounded throughout the studio. The two of them looked at the oven.

Obsequious blinked, pulling her hand back from the gallon of buttermilk. "Oh. Cake's done."

"Yep!" Kennith was already putting on his mittens. "Obsequious, go get the frosting while I get it out of the oven. Oh, and there's also a tub of icing in there, and a bag of cherries; get those too."

"Alright!"

Obsequious did as she was told and retrieved the frosting and icing from the fridge. Kennith, meanwhile, took the two pans out of the oven and placed them on the counter.

 _"Technically,_ we're supposed to let these cool off, but we've only got three minutes left," Kennith then handed Obsequious a mitten and a plastic knife. "Sooo, let's try to cut these out of the pans as fast as possible."

"Okay!" Obsequious beamed. She was glad that Kennith wasn't frantic anymore. It probably helped that she stopped arguing with him. Maybe she should have done that the whole time.

The two of them stuck their knives into their respective pans, and just as soon as they cut around the edges, they attempted to pry the cakes off of the hot metal. Surprisingly, the cakes came out in mostly one piece. They then laid each section of the cake onto separate plates.

"Now, you go decorate your cake with the frosting and cherries or whatever, and I'll put chocolate icing on mine," Kennith instructed. "After that, try to put your cake on top of mine. Then we'll be done!"

"Yay!" Obsequious reached for a plastic bag to put frosting in. "I can't wait to try this!" she lied. Clearly, being more agreeable kept Kennith from rushing her, so she had decided to do just that.

Kennith scoffed. "What, really?"

"Yeah! I'll eat just about anything, honestly," Obsequious said. That much was true. "Plus, I'm kinda hungry anyway."

Obsequious began scooping frosting into the plastic bag. Then she cut a corner of the bag off before attaching a nozzle to the end of it. While Kennith was preoccupied with layering icing onto the top of his cake with a knife, she slowly and carefully frosted the cake. There was a minute left on the timer once both cakes were completed; Kennith's having a copious amount of chocolate icing, and Obsequious' having delicate dollops of frosting with cherries on top.

"And now for the finishing touch. Obsequious, will you do the honors?" Kennith asked, gesturing with grandeur towards his own cake.

"Why, of _course,"_ Obsequious answered with a mock-fancy tone.

As soon as Obsequious lifted her cake and brought it over to Kennith's, the weight of the cherries and frosting caused the middle of her cake to collapse. It fell on top of Kennith's in wet, soggy clumps, causing cherries to scatter across the countertop. The weight of the impact from her cake's fall caused the middle of Kennith's cake to cave in as well. The crowd gasped. The timer went off with one loud beep.

Obsequious stared at the sight with wide open eyes and a slightly ajar mouth, two handfuls from the edges of her cake still in her hands. She didn't blink.

There was a long pause. Someone in the audience coughed.

"...Well!" Kennith said after a while, clapping his hands once. "It doesn't... look _that_ bad! I mean, this is the first time that either of us have ever baked a cake, so—"

"Kennith."

"Yes?"

"Kennith this isn't a cake."

"No, well I mean, it's—"

"Kennith this is a pile of uncooked batter and frosting."

"I guess _technically_ it is, but—"

"Kennith I thought you said that the cake would bake in five minutes."

"Well I mean, _again,"_ Kennith ran a hand through his hair nervously, accidentally getting icing in his hair, "I haven't baked anything before, remember? So I couldn't have known this would happen."

Obsequious finally let go of the cake pieces that she was holding, letting them fall on top of the mess below. Her hands fell to her sides, defeated. "We're going to eat this." She stated the obvious, as if she was in disbelief of those very words.

"Well, don't knock it till you try it, right?" Kennith tried his best to smile. It came out as a grimace. "And hey, I worked on this cake too, so don't be so hard on yourself."

There was another moment of still silence, and then Obsequious sighed. She put on a empty smile. "Okay, let's try it!" she declared, her voice betraying her expression.

"That's the spirit!" Kennith affirmed, even though he wasn't looking forward to this either. A pause followed as they both hesitated. Then Kennith reached into a drawer and pulled out two spoons. "I guess we're using spoons since it's—"

"Yeah."

"I mean with the texture and the—"

"Uh huh."

"It kinda looks like pudding if you squint, so—"

"Yep."

"Okay, yeah, cool," Kennith eventually gave up. He knew he was stalling. Not wanting to waste another minute, he stuck his spoon into the mess of cake and icing, and lifted the spoon to his mouth. He indicated with an nod of his head that Obsequious should do the same. With much more reluctance, Obsequious copied his actions, and together they ate their respective spoonfuls.

He didn't even think that it was possible, but somehow Kennith's face became paler. The cake was burnt on the outside so that it was crunchy and bitter, yet the inside was uncooked, so the majority of it was chunky batter and unmelted sugar. And there was a lot of sugar. He had also unknowingly eaten a cherry, but the stem was still on it, and these cherries still had pits in them, so every once in a while he would chew on a piece of the stem or bite onto the pit.

Kennith looked over at Obsequious, who appeared to not be faring very well either. "How is it?" he asked, mouth still full of cake. He didn't dare to swallow.

"It's..." she began, her mouth also full of cake. As if in a late reaction, Obsequious' face scrunched up in disgust. This caused a few audience members to laugh. "...An acquired taste. Yeah, it's... not _that_ bad." She echoed Kennith's earlier statement, since he made the cake alongside her and didn't want to risk hurting his feelings. "I've had worse."

Kennith was surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, I've actually—" Obsequious paused to swallow.

That was a mistake.

Immediately, Obsequious retched, and covering her mouth with one hand she ran from the kitchen onto the stage, and quickly left the set through the curtain on the left; presumably to go to the bathroom. The audience collectively went 'oooh' at this.

Kennith watched her leave before relenting to swallow his own mouthful. He then turned to address the audience, tears welling in his eyes. "Well, that's all the time that we have for today!" he announced, putting on a smile despite what felt like the beginnings of indigestion. "We hope that you have all enjoyed the show!"

Kennith's theme began to play once again on the speakers, and the audience started up again with the cheering. "My name is Kennith Simmons, and this has been COLOR-TV! Join us next time, and remember: I've always been here—!"

His outro was cut off as his stomach grumbled, and suddenly nausea flared up within him. Trying to hold back his own retching, Kennith ran through the curtains after Obsequious; waving goodbye with one hand, and covering his mouth with the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart made for this chapter: 
> 
> https://veeeffvee.tumblr.com/post/189668160713/i-gotta-post-this-here-bc-the-files-too-powerful


	2. Episode 2: Despite What You May See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter two! Now, please keep in mind while reading this that although I write Christopher from {madness-within-the-mirror.tumblr.com}, his character is a little bit exaggerated for this story. In all honesty, if I wrote him in this story the same way that I roleplay him, he wouldn’t even be on the show. My version of Christopher would never agree to be on a TV show. So, his personality and powers have been slightly altered to fit the story. Also, please don’t forget that I’m open to suggestions in terms of which GHOST character will be featured next on the show! Okay, now I’m done writing the author’s note. Enjoy the show!

Kennith glanced at the clock. Thirty seconds until the show starts, _oh god._

He looked back towards the mirror in front of him, and ruffled his hair with both hands. He very quickly found that his attempts at fixing his hair were proving to be in vain. Today, of all days, just had to be one where his hair was being uncooperative. Just his luck.

His hands ran through the thick strands of hair one last time before finally giving up. As he let his arms fall to his sides in defeat, he surveyed his reflection. It... didn't look _awful_ , but it wasn't... _television_ quality. Hardly fit for a TV host like himself.

Kennith blinked. And then a sudden wave of joy came over him.

Oh, that's right, he was officially a television host! What was he getting so upset about; he needed to up the energy for such an announcement! What kind of host would he be if he didn't? Come on, Kennith!

Sufficiently hyped up, Kennith stole another glance at the clock—

_—oh it's showtime he's gonna be late oh shit oh shit—_

* * *

With stage lights flashing, his theme music blaring, and an audience clapping in time to the beat, Kennith emerged from the large red curtain and ran to the front of the stage. Despite appearing frantic and hurried, he was wearing a large smile. He struck his signature pose, and the audience cheered louder. Oh, how Kennith loved his job.

Kennith held the microphone to his mouth. "Hello everyone, and welcome to COLOR-TV!" he greeted. With the timing of a trained performance, the audience quieted down along with the music. Kennith couldn't help but find this amusing. "I'm your host, Kennith Simmons! And today, I'd like to make a special announcement!"

Kennith paused for dramatic effect. Any stray murmurs within the crowd quickly died down, as they should. "Thanks to the overwhelmingly positive ratings for our debut episode of the show, COLOR-TV has been approved for a whole season!" he announced with a proud smile. The audience clapped and cheered at the wonderful news. "Yes, thank you all for your support! I can't express how grateful I am to you, my adoring audience! Give yourselves a round of applause for being a big part of the show!" At this, the audience clapped louder, and Kennith couldn't help but laugh. God, he's never been so happy in his entire life!

He motioned with one hand for the audience to quiet down. "Okay, okay, let's actually get this show started, shall we?" He held up a finger and walked over to the set of TVs behind him, hopping onto the TV on top and taking a seat. "First off, let me introduce our guest for today’s show. He's a friend to all, even to the worst of people: introducing... The Distortionist!"

A new song began playing from the speakers, but surprisingly, no one came out from the curtain. Instead, the red curtain was raised to reveal a little bit of the backstage area, and... a mirror?

The audience had begun cheering, but it promptly turned to confused chatter and halfhearted clapping.

There was a pause where no one said anything, not even Kennith. And then—

_CRASH!_

The mirror suddenly shattered to pieces, and behind the mirror stood a man with white hair, dressed in formal attire. He wore a dark grey vest, a crisp white shirt, a black bowtie, black slacks, and black shoes. He had two dark circles of black blush on his cheeks, mascara applied heavily to his eyelashes, and wore a bone-chilling smile. And despite his torso appearing to be twisted to the point of horrific disfigurement, the most striking thing about him was that he was wielding a bent-up baseball bat.

This would have been a grand and exciting entrance, had it not caused shards of glass to fly out into the audience. Cries of alarm rang out as people tried to avoid being cut by the debris. 

Kennith looked sheepish. "Whoops. Um..." He looked out towards the crowd, hoping to some higher power that no one was seriously hurt. His gaze then landed on The Distortionist, whose smile had by then faltered due to the audience's reaction. He seemed as much at a loss as Kennith was, as he stood there behind the mirror frame, still clutching the baseball bat with two hands.

Kennith decided to move on. No point in lingering on this any longer than he had to. "Uh, Distortionist, how about you come over and sit down?" he asked, trying to speak above the panicked cacophony of voices.

The Distortionist understood the cue. "Ah... right," was all that he could say, unfortunately. He lowered his bat and walked over to the chair opposite Kennith, and gingerly took a seat. Despite sitting with perfect posture and with his bat across his lap, The Distortionist seemed... unsure of himself, for once.

Kennith felt the same way. This was not a very good start to an episode.

Thankfully, the hysteria had mostly died down by this point. Judging by the lack of screaming and crying, no one was hurt. That was good. Kennith cleared his throat. "So, uh, is there anything that you'd like to say now that you're on the show, Distortionist?" he began, fiddling with the wire of his microphone.

The Distortionist folded his hands on top of his bat before speaking. "Well, for starters, I'm not called 'The Distortionist.' Truth be told, I don't even know where that title came from." He turned to address the audience now. "My name is Christopher Pierre," he then turned back to Kennith with a cold stare, "and I would prefer that you call me that, _Kennith."_

Kennith didn’t even flinch. "I knew that, I was just calling you that because the audience might not know your name! I did that with Obsequious, too. And she didn't complain!"

"But you are aware of my preferences," Christopher reminded him, maintaining an even tone.

"Yes, of course, but again—"

"And how could you compare me to Obsequious? We are very notably different. Of course _she_ wouldn't complain."

Kennith's anger began to show as his face tinted a light red. "Okay! Okay then, _Christopher,_ welcome to the show, let's—"

"And another thing," Christopher began, holding up a finger to silence Kennith. Kennith reluctantly clamped his mouth shut. Christopher apparently found this amusing, as a smirk graced his lips. "I would like to make it clear that the entrance was _Kennith's_ idea, not mine. I would never propose such a dangerous idea."

The audience began to whisper to themselves at the revelation. That wasn't good. Frustrated, Kennith splayed his arms out in front of him. "Then why did you agree to it?!"

"Oh, well," Christopher tapped a finger to his chin thoughtfully, "Maybe because I don't know anything about television, and you do? I don't know what an audience wants, and I am especially unfamiliar with the audience that you perform to. I also couldn't have known that you had lacked to provide safety measures for the audience, because I was behind a curtain."

The chattering was becoming increasingly louder. The crowd was getting restless. "Well...!" Kennith started, before he faltered. He made a few more unintelligible noises before giving up with a huff. He hated when Christopher was right.

Seeing that Kennith now knew his place, Christopher nodded in approval. "Anyway, as you were saying...?" He motioned for him to continue.

Kennith turned his head away from the audience and camera's view to glare at Christopher. Christopher continued to wear that smug look on his face. Kennith _really_ hated when Christopher was right.

"Right... as I was _saying,"_ Kennith stressed the last part, and thankfully, the audience quieted down to listen to him. "For today's episode, I thought that I'd treat the audience to something special. And what's more special than a little bit of _magic?"_ Kennith asked, making jazz hands at the word ‘magic.’

This roused noises of surprise and excitement from the crowd. Christopher, meanwhile, seemed to be caught off-guard. "Wait, what?"

Kennith's grin returned. _That's a better look for him,_ Kennith thought to himself. "Thaaat's right! Christopher Pierre, otherwise known as The Distortionist, is infamous for distorting mirrors to his liking, so I thought: why not have him on the show to perform some of his magic for us? Doesn't that sound exciting?" He gestured out into the audience, and the audience responded in kind with sounds of approval.

Christopher wasn't having any of it. "No, wait, wait, hold on—" he abruptly spoke over the cheers. He held up both hands as the attention was drawn back to him. "Kennith, you told me that you were just going to interview me. You didn't say anything about my magic."

"Ohhh, _did I...?"_ Kennith feigned innocence, pressing a finger to his cheek. _"Welllll,_ I lied!" he said with a laugh, and the audience laughed along with him.

Christopher begrudgingly faked a smile. It was abundantly clear that he wasn't going to enjoy this. "Ah. Charming. I suppose _this_ is what your audience likes," he said, rather than asked. These people were nothing short of depraved, in that case.

Kennith didn't miss a beat. "Yup!" he answered, that shit-eating grin still on his face. Figures. "And I only save the best of the best for my loving fans! _Sooooo,"_ Kennith lilted, leaning forward in his seat above the television set, "you're _definitely_ going to perform for us, _riiiight?_ It would _really_ disappoint the audience if you didn't..."

Just as Kennith said that, the crowd began cheering for Christopher's agreement; urging him to perform some magnificent feat of magic. 

Christopher scowled. So _this_ is what Kennith's been angling for. And he couldn't just refuse, that would make him look bad. But if something goes wrong with his magic... things could get much worse. What a corner he's backed himself into.

He sat there in silence for another moment, the cheers of the audience grating on his nerves for a little while longer before he finally relented. Christopher knew when he had been beaten, not that he was too happy about it. "Fine. Okay. I'll do some magic," he grumbled, much to the delight of everyone else on set. The sounds of their approval sounded like nails on a chalkboard to him.

"Yaaay!" Kennith exclaimed, his voice being the worst of all. "I knew you'd do this favor for me, I _knew_ it! You're _such_ a good friend, Christopher!" he praised, clapping his hands together.

Christopher only glared at him. Kennith obviously wasn't going to get away with this.

But that was a problem for another day! Right now, Kennith had a show to host!

Ignoring the death stare in front of him, Kennith reached behind the television set and grabbed a familiar blue remote. At the press of a button, the elevated platform on the right side of the stage began to rotate, revealing only a stool and mirror on an otherwise bare stage. Hopping off of the TV that he was sitting on, Kennith strode over to the platform. With much reluctance, Christopher placed his bat on his seat and got up to follow him.

Kennith took a seat on the stool, and Christopher kinda just... stood by the mirror. Being a part of an unscripted show made one very unsure of what to do. This didn't seem to affect Kennith, however, as he spoke confidently into the microphone and struck some sort of pose while sitting. 

"Welcome to our new segment: 'Makeovers with Kennith!' I'm your host, Kennith Simmons!" he announced, and the audience applauded him as usual. "Joining me today is Christopher Pierre, who's _probably_ going to do most of the work for this segment, if I'm not mistaken," Kennith said, side-eyeing Christopher with a smug look of his own.

Christopher was hardly affected this time. In fact, Christopher actually smiled, albeit in a hostile manner. "That's where you're _wrong,_ Kennith. I'm surprised that despite having me on the show, you know next to nothing about my magic. Or, well," he chuckled bitterly, "perhaps I shouldn't be surprised at all, considering that you want to use my magic for such _frivolous_ purposes."

Kennith's smile began to look more like a grimace. He tilted his head in mock thoughtfulness. "Well, gee, why don't you _explain_ how your magic works, then? _Enlighten_ the audience of your abilities, we're _so_ eager to hear it."

"Gladly," Christopher replied, with all the eagerness of a hostage. He tapped the mirror beside him with his index finger, and like a pebble being dropped into a body of water, the glass of the mirror began to ripple and shine as it was enchanted. This earned some sounds of surprise and amazement from the crowd. Soon enough, the ripples faded out, leaving the mirror appearing as flat as it initially did, but the glass continued to glow softly with power. 

Once the mirror had been sufficiently laced with magic, Christopher spoke up, "You see, I do not have the ability to change peoples' appearances by myself. If you had asked me to do so without a mirror, I wouldn't be able to do anything. In truth," he gestured to the mirror with one hand, "it is the mirrors that have the ability to do this. I can only enchant them so that they may do what I tell them to do. Or, rather, what _anyone_ tells them to do."

Next to him, Kennith yawned obnoxiously loud. "Geeee, _reeeaaally?_ How _interesting,"_ Kennith droned, clearly uninterested.

Christopher barely suppressed the urge to yell at him. Kennith had asked for an explanation, and now he was hardly listening. Anyone with eyes could see that Kennith was being incredibly rude. Unfortunately, this was Kennith's show, so he had to bite his tongue for now. Emphasis on _‘for now.’_

Ignoring the boy's disinterest, Christopher continued, "In order for the mirror to change your appearance, you have to be a good liar. And by that I mean, an _incredibly_ good liar. This goes beyond simply lying to your loved ones; you have to have years upon years of experience of lying in order for this to work."

"Lying?" Kennith echoed, suddenly looking curious. "Well, I don't think I'm very good at that, so I guess Christopher's going to have to—"

"Oh, _really?"_ Christopher spoke over him, eyes growing dark. "Because you lied about my reasons for coming here. I think you'll fit the role just _fine,"_ he spat.

Kennith blinked, as if the realization had just dawned on him. It clearly hadn't. "Huh... oh yeah, haha!" he laughed, and the audience laughed along with him. "I guess you're right! Man, I'm just so forgetful!" he chirped, before continuing to laugh. The audience echoed his laughter tenfold.

Christopher was losing patience, fast. "Are you quite done? If you brought me here only to waste my time, I think that's much more of a disappointment to the audience than anything else, _don't you think?"_ he hissed through clenched teeth.

A few more giggles tumbled out of Kennith before he replied, "Ah, well, I guess you're right about that," he said, sounding unconvinced. He waved towards the audience with one hand in a gesture for them to quiet down. "Okay everyone, let's listen to Christopher or whatever."

Christopher glared daggers at Kennith. Fine, he'll be concise. "Lie to the mirror about your appearance. That's all there is to it. Now use the damn mirror so that we can get this awful segment over with," he said coldly.

"Hmmm, _okaaay,_ if you _insiiist,"_ Kennith drawled out. If Kennith heard the insult, he didn't acknowledge it out loud. "I'm just glad that your boring explanation is finally over," he happily said, throwing the insult back effortlessly. 

Kennith turned in his seat to face the mirror. This should be easy! He studied his reflection. Well, his hair could use a bit of help, seeing as it was frizzy and, frankly, unprofessional-looking. "Let's see. Um... my hair is... beautiful?" he asked, rather than said. It felt really weird to talk to his reflection, and more so to describe something that he wasn't really seeing.

...

...Nothing happened.

Christopher folded his arms impatiently. "Right, because a _question_ is the most convincing thing in the world. How about describing yourself as if what you are saying is actually true. That's what lying is," he said, before sighing with deliberate exasperation. "Also, simple descriptions like that are less likely to work. _Try using your words."_ Christopher said the last part as if he were instructing a child.

"Okay, fine, shut up." Kennith gave up the cheerful act. Okay, descriptive, descriptive... "My hair is curly yet manageable, flows nicely with my movements, and has amazing volume. It’s perfect for television, and looks completely natural.”

Kennith waited. Was that descriptive enough? Did he have to narrate an entire paragraph about his supposedly amazing hair? Did he have to talk about color, length, and shape? Did he have to have extensive knowledge about hair in the first place? How long did this stuff even take?

...

...

...Nothing happened.

"Okay, Christopher, your magic is complete garb—"

Then suddenly, Kennith's hair began to move on its own; each individual strand moving to its ideal place and smoothing out accordingly. The audience gasped in awe, and Kennith seemed just as surprised as they were. In almost no time at all, Kennith's hair was just as he described it: neat, flawless, and most of all—fit for a television host.

Kennith lightly felt the top of his hair with his hand, as if in disbelief of its perfection. "Oh, wow. It's... actually really beautiful," he marveled.

Despite the circumstances, Christopher felt a little prideful. "Of course it is. I've refined my magic for years so that it creates nothing short of a masterpiece."

Kennith couldn't agree more, as he was still fixated on his reflection. He was starry-eyed as he eagerly looked over at Christopher. "Can I do more? I _really_ wanna do more."

At this, Christopher frowned, looking serious all of a sudden. _"No,_ you cannot do any more. It's dangerous enough to use my magic as it is. If you keep going, then I—" he began to say, before he realized what he was saying and stopped. He tried again. "Then... something _bad_ may happen."

"Bad?" Kennith sounded skeptical. "How bad?"

Christopher looked at him blankly. "Very bad." 

Kennith mirrored his expression. "Really."

"Yes."

"It can't be _that_ bad."

"Kennith, I _cannot_ stress this enough," Christopher started, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You do _not_ want to see what may happen. You will regret this. I'm warning you."

Kennith scoffed. "It's probably fine! You've gotta be overreacting."

Christopher took offense to that. "I can assure you, I'm not."

"Oh, come on!" Kennith made himself look pathetic as possible, doggy eyes and all. _"Pleeeaase?_ Pretty please? Okay, I'll admit it: your magic's actually really cool! And plus, I'm sure the audience wants to see more, too!" He then turned towards the crowd. "Right, guys?"

On cue, the audience responded with uproarious applause.

Christopher couldn’t let this one slide. He stood his ground. “Cornering me _again,_ Kennith? I didn’t think you were the type to stoop so low. Surely everyone here can see how overbearing and _arrogant_ you are.”

Kennith was unaffected. He dropped the pleading act and _smirked._ “You’re one to talk...” he said in a singsong voice.

Christopher froze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think you and I both know what I mean. Don’t play dumb now,” Kennith crooned, kicking his legs as he sat on the stool. “I’m asking as nicely as possible for you to do this favor for me, and you’re not listening. So you’ve asked for this.”

Kennith made a wide sweeping gesture out towards the audience, the cameras, and all of the listening devices on set. “If you don’t let me continue my segment the way I want to, I’ll tell everyone here and _everyone watching_ about what you really are. Won’t be too popular after I do that, huh?” he chirped, cheerful as ever.

The audience collectively went ‘oooh’ and began murmuring again, excited and curious. Christopher kept his expression guarded. “I’m afraid that I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice as flat as one that would recite lines from a memorized script.

“You don’t? Are you _sure?”_ Kennith leaned forward. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I went and said it, right?”

Christopher fell silent, gritting his teeth and looking pointedly away from Kennith.

Kennith tilted his head curiously. “Going once…”

_He can’t be serious._

“Twice…”

_He wouldn’t be so awful as to **blackmail** me. He won’t do it._

“Three times…” Kennith stared at Christopher expectantly. 

_He would **never—**_

“No takers? Well then,” Kennith paused to tap the top of his microphone, “is this thing on? Everyone can hear me loud and clear?” He waited for the audience to finish giving their approval before he spoke again. “Alright then! Listen up everyone, Christopher is—”

 _ **“Alright, fine!”**_ Christopher finally caved. _“I’ll do your fucking segment, you **insolent piece of—”**_

Kennith very quickly silenced him by putting a finger over his mouth. “Ah ah ah. _Censors._ I’ve already let you say the d-word once. It’s kind of a pain to bleep you since this is live,” he calmly chided.

Christopher was _seething._ He grabbed Kennith’s arm and pulled it away from his mouth, digging his nails in painfully as he did so. _“Did you just **shush** me?”_ he asked in near-hysterical disbelief.

“Yep! Uh—that kinda hurts—” Kennith’s upbeat attitude faltered under the stinging pain. It soon became unbearable. Desperately, Kennith tried to pry Christopher’s hand off of him, wincing with the effort. _“Ow ow ow,_ let go! This isn’t any better than if I had said it, you know…!”

Christopher had to admit that he was at least right about that. As soon as Christopher let go, Kennith stood up from his seat and backed away from Christopher, clutching his own arm and checking for wounds. Christopher rolled his eyes. He had it coming to him.

The audience made various noises of concern. Kennith fought back the tears pricking at the sides of his eyes and addressed them. “It’s alright, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have done that while he was mad, that was my fault. I’m sorry for shushing you, Christopher,” he said, sounding apologetic. 

But Christopher knew better. He could just chalk it up to the pain, as well as having to look pitiful in front of the audience. Still, Christopher had to keep up appearances as well. After taking a breath to calm himself, he said, “No, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. You have a show to run, and I should have understood that. I’m sorry for being unreasonable.”

After another moment of inspecting his arm, Kennith seemed to have concluded that there were no puncture wounds; just really deep nail marks. He sighed in relief. “Well luckily, there’s no harm done!” he announced, holding out his arm to show everyone.

“I’m glad,” Christopher said, just barely keeping his act together.

Kennith wore an innocent smile, and held both his arms out invitingly towards Christopher. “Wanna hug it out? Just to make sure there’s no hard feelings?”

Christopher was very visibly disgusted. _“No,_ I’m not going to—”

But his protests were drowned out by the crowd going ‘awww.’

Kennith didn’t say anything after that. He only inclined his head towards the crowd, as if signaling Christopher for something.

Backed into a corner again. Christopher just barely resisted the urge to scream. “Okay… sure,” he muttered after another pause. 

Kennith continued to awkwardly stand there with his arms out. Heaving a sigh, Christopher walked up to him, and without a moment of hesitation, the two of them embraced. This caused the audience to whoop and cheer at their apparent reconciliation. 

While the crowd made a fuss over things, Christopher spoke under his breath so that only Kennith could hear. “You’re going to pay for this, Kennith.”

Even though Christopher couldn’t see it, Kennith grinned widely. “Yeah, I know. Just do this one thing for me right now, ‘kay?” he said, matching Christopher’s volume.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Love you too, babe~!”

At that, they separated, and the two of them went back to their respective areas on the small platform, where they had been just a moment ago. 

Taking a seat on the stool once more, Kennith looked at an area far in front of him, somewhere above the live audience. “Uh, let’s see… I think we have like, five minutes left? For the show, I mean.”

Christopher followed his gaze, but couldn’t find a clock anywhere. “What are you looking at?”

 _“Anyway,_ guess we’ll have to cut this segment short. Gonna have to hurry this up.” Kennith kicked excitedly in his chair with nervous energy. “So! How do I keep the magic going? Do I just keep saying things?”

“Yes, that’s how that would work,” Christopher replied, not nearly as enthusiastic as Kennith was. He suddenly seemed distracted, as his gaze swept across the stage looking for something. Something important.

“Neat! Okay, so, I’m going to make the best out of the time that we have left over!” Kennith declared, clapping his hands together once to hype himself up. “In the next five minutes, I’m going to change my appearance as many times as I can! Here I go!”

Christopher wasn’t listening. While Kennith was talking, Christopher left his side and walked toward the middle of the stage, where the chair and television set were. Kennith paid him no mind either; Christopher is letting him use his magic, so why bother him any further? And speaking of which...

Kennith took a deep breath.

“I have long pink hair—curly as well and styled nicely, and I’m wearing a light blue frilly crop top with a matching ruffled skirt—about mid-thigh length I guess, red stiletto heels, a hot pink feather boa, a pair of those _really_ fancy sunglasses that cost like—I don’t know—a hundred bucks probably, an authentic-looking crown with jewels and all that—perfect for a prince or whatever, and I’m wearing bright red lipstick, pink blush—not too much as to overdo it by the way, light blue eyeshadow, a _lot_ of mascara and eyeliner but like—”

As Kennith spoke, everything that he said came into existence just as he said it. Christopher, meanwhile, was looking around the area at the middle of the stage, circling the chair and television set. He could have sworn that he had left it right on the chair. He checked behind the chair, under the table, and glanced around the surrounding floor before finally asking, “Kennith, have you seen my bat anywhere?”

Kennith didn’t hear him. “—not to the point where I look goth but just enough to look nice, and I have diamond earrings, _multiple_ gold bracelets on both of my arms—maybe like six for each one, rings with different precious gemstones on _all_ of my fingers—” He suddenly stopped when he noticed something. “...Uh, Christopher, is the mirror supposed to be doing that?”

Christopher immediately looked towards Kennith, and found that the mirror was glowing brightly. _Oh no._

Kennith touched the surface of the mirror, only to flinch back with a yelp. “It’s burning hot!”

For once in his life, Christopher looked terrified. “Kennith, **_where is my bat?”_** he demanded.

Kennith held both his hands up defensively. “I-I just had a staff member take it off of the stage in case it got in the way, w-why do you—”

Before anyone could react, the mirror shone a bright ray of light directly at Christopher, engulfing him in nothing but pure white. 

And as quickly as that had happened, something awful emerged from that light. 

It had Christopher’s hair and wore Christopher’s clothes, but it was _not_ Christopher. 

It had charred black skin, four arms protruding from its back, and it wore a cheshire cat smile. 

As soon as the light dispersed, the monster began tearing apart the set, starting with the mirror that had burned it in the first place. It then went on to attempt to destroy the stage lights by throwing furniture at them, some of which came flying towards the live audience. The audience began to flee, screaming and panicking, as the monster went on to destroy any and every light source that was on set. Stage lights fell and broke into pieces, spreading shards of glass everywhere and causing sparks of electricity to fly.

Kennith ran through the curtains just as the monster started its rampage, and he pressed a button wired into the wall. Heavy metal shutters then enclosed the set, trapping some unlucky audience members inside. Some people might end up getting hurt right now, but at least Christopher wouldn’t be able to leave the room and cause more damage. Through the debris and the panicked victims running around the set trying to find cover, Kennith ran to the camera that was focused on the center of the stage and pulled it towards what he hoped was a safe corner. 

Angling the camera towards his face, he spoke over the chaos, trying for a happy tone. It came out sounding panicked. “O-Okay, I guess we have to turn off all the lights and wait for Christopher to calm down. That’s what I’m guessing based on—” a stage light fell right next to him, shattering with a loud crash, “—y-yeah, that. Uh, I’m gonna have to sign off, so, um, my name is Kennith Simmons, and this has been COLOR-TV! Join us next time, and remember: I’ve always been here!”

And with that, the broadcast ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Ever wonder what kinds of things I cut out of the episode because they didn’t hecking work? Well, wonder no longer!
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/17vwFEF_sw7zZaPiRaM3tQ-zGmDLjjzxeH6LCj3uZHus/edit?usp=sharing
> 
> Here they are! They’re awful!


	3. Episode 3: Thread That's Tied In Knots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but here it is: the next chapter! Okay, so I took some liberties with a story here (you’ll see what I’m talking about by the end of this chapter), and I hope that everyone will be okay with the changes that I’ve made. I… don’t have anything else to say, so with that, I hope you’ll all enjoy the show!

Three minutes until showtime. 

Thank god that he was still able to think that.

Kennith sat with his head in his hands in front of his vanity. To the left of him, his phone constantly buzzed with updates of messages and emails. Two weeks ago, he would have been elated to receive the attention, good or bad. Now he knew the nature of the majority of those messages.

Suffice to say, they weren't good. 

He peeked one baleful eye from between his fingers to deliver a glare at the offending device. The buzzing hadn’t stopped for days now, and it was seriously grating on his nerves. Didn't people have anything better to do than complain about the show? Did someone out there, somewhere, recognize that the end of the previous episode wasn't _entirely_ his fault?

How was Kennith supposed to know that the distance between the mirror and the audience wasn't wide enough? How was Kennith supposed to know just how badly the magic would affect Christopher? How was Kennith supposed to know that Christopher was _literally_ a monster?! 

Kennith had known that Christopher's magic would have adverse effects if used excessively. After all, Christopher had warned him about it right on the show. Of course, Christopher wouldn't be able to tell him about the severity of those risks, because that would reveal one of his secrets live on camera. And of course, Christopher wouldn't be able to tell Kennith before the show because _Kennith never told him that they were going to use magic for the episode._

Heaving a sigh, Kennith finally resigned himself to check his phone. After pressing the power button, his lock screen displayed a large notification, informing him of over a thousand messages in his inbox.

Seeing this, Kennith took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly let it out.

_Wow.  
_

_This really sucks._

He vaguely remembered Christopher telling him that Kennith would regret it if he pushed his magic too hard. On the same day, Christopher told him that Kennith would pay for messing with him. Once again, Kennith hated when Christopher was right.

Kennith's gaze landed on the clock on his phone. Now he had a minute left. It was almost time to start the show again.

The way that he stood up and walked over to the curtain was like clockwork: automatic, and stiff in movement. Once he had reached the curtain, he stopped. He stood there for a moment, thinking.

 _Well,_ Kennith thought, _at least I still have my show. At least I haven't been shut down. I just... have to keep going. People will forget about this if I move on. Just apologize, then move forward._

He sighed once more in an effort to collect himself, before he put on a smile and stepped through the curtains.

Once again, it's showtime.

* * *

As Kennith ran onto the stage to make his usual entrance, he paid close attention to the audience. He grimly noted that there were less people in the crowd this time. Not only that, but in some parts of the crowd, there were new faces that he didn't recognize, almost like replacements for those who couldn't make it to the show for whatever reason.

Although the sight sent a pang through his chest, he forced himself to remain cheerful as he struck his usual pose with a smile. It would seem that he needed to put on an act today; it was for the good of the show. For the audience. For himself.

"Hello everyone, and welcome to COLOR-TV!" Kennith greeted, his voice coming out a bit louder than he intended. He suppressed a wince as he continued, "I'm your host, Kennith Simmons! And today, I have a special challenge for our episode this week!"

The crowd applauded as usual, but it sounded different. It would sound normal to the average person, but to Kennith, it was just a little bit off. Less excited. He ignored the discrepancy for now. There was something that he had to say.

"Now, before I start today's episode, there's something that I want to address regarding... last week's episode," Kennith began, taking on a more solemn tone. He had to acknowledge this, right here and now. He wouldn't be able to take any more of his phone's buzzing if he didn't. 

The audience appeared to sense the shift in mood, and they quieted themselves accordingly. Kennith silently thanked them for that. What a lovely audience. Truly, he didn’t deserve them.

He cleared his throat, trying to muster up a little more confidence. The sound cut through the silence like a knife. "Right, so... I know that last week, things got _way_ out of hand. I was careless, I was pushy, and I was just… _really_ out of line. And I know that people may have gotten hurt because of me."

He paused to let that sink in; the understatement of the century. There wasn't even a murmur in the audience.

“I’d like to say… that I’m sorry. For all of that,” Kennith went on, his gaze sweeping across the rows of people. “I’m really, genuinely sorry for my actions. I should have cared more about my audience. I should have thought things through before I went and did that episode. And now, because of what I’ve done, I’ve caused damage to Christopher, to myself, and worst yet: to you all.”

Kennith went quiet again. He watched for any reactions. As far as he could tell, he was gaining sympathy from the newcomers, but the regulars seemed to have mixed reactions. Some appeared to understand Kennith’s feelings, while others looked like they needed a bit more convincing. Now that just wouldn’t do.

He straightened up, putting on a stern face. “But… I promise to do better. I’ll take more consideration of the show, and I’ll make sure that things like that never happen again. I’ll be more careful, honest, and patient with everyone. I can’t say that my ideas will stop being dumb, because, well, _let’s face it—”_ Kennith didn’t finish his sentence, letting out a weak laugh instead. Fortunately, this earned a few small smiles from some people. That was good. 

“Anyway, yeah, so I’d like to keep this show running for as long as possible. It’s my first TV show, after all! And I think I’ve been doing _pretty_ well so far, except for, you know… _that,”_ Kennith said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Someone in the audience coughed. _Great. Finally. A reaction,_ Kennith thought bitterly. 

“Also, since a few people have been asking me this: Christopher’s doing okay,” Kennith went on, his gaze lowering. “He’s been… uh, what’s the word—” he made a few vague gestures with his hands, “—apprehended? Kinda?? Like, he had to be restrained 'cause of the stuff he did on the show, but he’s not _hurt_ or anything at least. He’s also, um… _really_ mad at me. Obviously. And he’s probably not coming back to the show. Sorry about that, guys. I dunno how many Distortionist fans are out there, but uh...”

He trailed off, suddenly feeling really awkward. The audience didn’t give any sort of response to that. For some reason, the silence was much more suffocating this time.

“Yeah, so…” Kennith clapped his hands together once, ”...cool,” he concluded.

Deciding that was finally the end of his spiel, Kennith let go of the microphone wire that he had no idea he was gripping tightly. He let out a breath. _Okay, now that’s over and done with. Good,_ he thought. He began to walk over to the TVs.

The audience watched in relative silence as Kennith climbed on top of the set of TVs and took a seat as usual. Kennith was more than a little unnerved by the silence, since it was very uncharacteristic of an _audience_ , but the show must go on, and he had to fake it till he made it! Playing up the enthusiasm, he gestured to the curtain with grandeur and put on a large grin. 

His voice broke the silence, loud and sounding a little too forced. “Alright, that’s enough of the sad stuff! How about we lighten the mood by getting the show started? I _did_ say that I had another challenge planned didn’t I?” he asked, holding up a finger. “You all seemed to like the first episode a whole lot, so I thought that I’d do another one of these! Isn't that great?”

The audience read the cue, and slowly but surely, they responded to Kennith’s announcement with excitement; clapping and cheering like they usually did.

Kennith’s smile became more genuine at this. “That’s the spirit! So, let’s welcome our guest for today! Please give a round of applause for the skilled seamstress with synesthesia: Nancy Elsner!"

An energetic song began playing from the speakers, which helped cheer up any remaining audience members that were still reeling from the apology from earlier. With the crowd sufficiently excited and cheering for today's episode, a woman walked through the curtains and made her way over to the chair opposite Kennith. The woman had short and curly orange hair, light-blue eyes, and black lipstick applied to her lips. She wore a swing dress with an olive green bodice, mint green accents, and an emerald green skirt with white polka dots. Around her neck was a necklace of pearls, and she wore black high heels that clicked as she walked.

As Nancy moved across the stage, she gave a small smile to the audience and waved to them as they applauded. She had a very demure air about her, judging by her attitude towards the crowd. This was probably the most uninteresting entrance yet, but Kennith wasn't complaining. At least he could rely on Nancy to act normal, and there wasn't any room for ideas on how to make her entrance exciting. The show needed a break from those, honestly.

After Nancy had taken a seat on the chair, Kennith spoke up, "Welcome to the show, Nancy! We're _so_ happy to have you. And hey, you're the first guest here that doesn't have a nickname!" he announced with a laugh.

Nancy chuckled politely. "Well, I guess that's true," she answered. Her voice was gentle, and considerably much quieter than Kennith's. "Everyone else had a nickname according to something that made them unique. Meanwhile, all that's special about me is that I can hear colors and sew, so there’s not much to use there. And, by the way,” Nancy's smile faltered, “I’ve told you this before, Kennith: I'm not _that_ good at sewing. I think it's a bit much to say that I'm _skilled_ at it... " she muttered, eyes darting off to the side.

Kennith scoffed. "Don't be so modest! You're _amazing_ at sewing, Nancy!" he encouraged. Nancy kept her gaze averted, but she did crack a smile. Kennith continued, "If you weren't, I wouldn't have you on the show! So come on, don't be so down!"

The audience chimed in by applauding encouragingly. Nancy laughed again, but this time it was out of shyness. "Oh, all right. Maybe I _am_ good at it. I didn't mean to bring down the mood though, so I'm sorry about that."

Kennith shrugged. "Nah, it's cool. We just got back from a bad mood, so you're fine," he said, brushing off her concern with a wave of his hand. "But anyway, are you ready for today's challenge? I know everyone else is!"

As the crowd cheered from Kennith's prompting, Nancy's expression turned to one of confusion. "Wait, what?"

"Thaaat's right!" Kennith jumped up from his seat on the TV in order to stand over Nancy. He pointed a finger at her as he declared, "Nancy Elsner here is probably _the_ most impressive seamstress that I have ever met. And I don't even care about sewing!" He opened his free hand now and raised his arm. "That's why today, Nancy is going to teach me how to sew!"

Nancy blinked multiple times, as if she was struggling to process this. With her quiet voice, she tried to interject, "Um, Kennith—"

 _"Aaand_ she's going to do this in, you guessed it: _fifteen minutes!"_ Kennith went on, speaking over her. He laughed again. "Yes, we sure do love our running gags here on COLOR-TV. I mean, episode one had _quite_ a bit of running and gagging, _am I right, folks??"_

As the audience erupted in canned laughter, Nancy tried again, "Kennith, you said—"

"And just like baking, I've never sewn anything before!" Kennith announced. He then hopped off of his perch and went behind the stack of TVs to grab the blue remote. After pressing a button, the platform on the right rotated to reveal several tables with sewing materials, and a small table with a sewing machine, a piece of paper, and a pencil. "So, I bet this'll be pretty—"

**_"KENNITH!"_ **

Kennith jumped about a foot in the air. His mouth clamped shut, and he froze in place. He stared at Nancy with wide eyes.

Nancy quickly put a hand over her mouth. She appeared just as surprised as Kennith at her volume, and her face flushed with embarrassment. "Oh my, I didn't mean to be _that_ loud," she spoke under her hand. "You weren't listening to me, so I may have lost my temper there. I'm so sorry."

As Nancy explained herself, Kennith slowly unfroze, and he gradually remembered to breathe. "That's… o-okay," he responded after a moment. His voice was much smaller now. "Wh-What were you saying, then? Go ahead."

Nancy looked guilty, but she removed her hand from her mouth. "I was just saying that you told me that I was going to co-host the show today." She turned towards the audience, enthusiasm slipping into her tone. "You see, while I do enjoy listening to music on the radio, I've always wondered what it’s like to be an AM radio host. I thought that if I started as a co-host here, it would give me a better chance at becoming one.” She faced Kennith again with a puzzled expression. “That’s why I’m more than a little confused on how you could somehow confuse hosting with sewing, Kennith.”

“Oh, did I?” Kennith asked. His voice lacked the mocking tone that he used whenever he said that. After all, he was still a little shaken from earlier. He was more relaxed now, though. “Well, I mean, you’re _kinda_ co-hosting? I only ever have two people on the show at a time, them being me and the guest star, so in a way you're the co-host for today? I guess??” he said, giving a halfhearted shrug.

Nancy frowned. She folded her hands on her lap, looking quite unamused. 

The change in demeanor made Kennith feel suddenly sheepish. "What?"

There was a beat of silence before Nancy breathed a sigh, shaking her head. "Never mind, it's alright." She threw a wary glance over to the platform of sewing supplies. "I really don't think we can make anything in fifteen minutes, but I'm sure it'll be fun to try."

Kennith's grin returned, wide as ever. "Of course it will! So let's get started!" 

And with that, Kennith all but ran over to the small platform as the audience cheered. Standing behind the desk with the sewing machine and facing the audience, he struck a pose and declared, "Welcome to our new segment: 'Sewing with Kennith!' I'm your host, Kennith Simmons!"

As clapping and a few chuckles was roused from the audience at the repeated joke, Kennith's eyes glanced over to the chair in the middle of the stage, where Nancy still sat. She looked really uncertain of something. Uncomfortable, even.

Kennith cleared his throat. "Uh, Nancy, _you're supposed to follow me over here,"_ he said in a loud whisper; the kind that was basically like yelling quietly.

Nancy perked up, quickly rising from her seat and hurrying over to Kennith. "Oh, right, of course, I'm sorry," she said in a rush, ducking her head in embarrassment.

As soon as Nancy was standing next to him, Kennith lowered his hands from the pose he was in. It was his turn to look confused as he asked, "Wait, have you ever watched COLOR-TV before?"

Nancy shook her head. "No, I don't even watch TV in general. It distracts me when I'm sewing. Why?"

Kennith stared at her, his expression blank.

There was a pause. It lasted for a full minute. 

No one made a sound during this, not even the audience.

And then Kennith said, _"Anyway—"_ he faced the audience once more, clapping his hands together, "—let's _actually_ get started, shall we? The timer starts… now!"

At that, the screens at the middle of the stage began their countdown, same as before. Kennith seemed ready to begin doing… something. The problem was that he had no idea where to start, so he could only bounce up and down restlessly in place. "Okay! What's first, Nancy?"

Nancy balked, looking from Kennith to the timer and back. "Wait, we're already starting? What are we even making?"

"I don't know!"

"What do you mean _you don't know?"_

"I _mean,"_ Kennith drawled out, starting to look impatient, _"I. Don't. Know!_ I said I don't know how to sew, and that you're teaching me how! Were you even listening?"

Nancy frowned again. "Yes. I was," she said, her tone just a little bit colder.

Kennith was unaffected this time. He merely pointed to the timer, which indicated that thirty seconds had passed. "Well then, get to it! What's the first step?"

Narrowing her eyes disapprovingly at Kennith, Nancy reluctantly grabbed the measuring tape from a box of supplies. _"I guess we'll make a shirt then..."_ she slowly intoned, carefully maintaining her volume. She then said in her normal voice, "Step one is to get the measurements. You don't know how and what to measure, Kennith, so I'll just measure you. Hold your arms out from your sides," she instructed.

Glad that they were finally back on track, Kennith obeyed and lifted his arms horizontally. "Like this?"

"Yes, exactly," Nancy moved to take his measurements, but stopped herself as she noticed something. "Could you please put your microphone down? The wire is getting in the way."

Kennith smiled. "No."

"Okay..." Nancy sighed.

It would be awkward to go around the cord that was tangled around Kennith, but Nancy would have to manage. She held the tape vertically to measure Kennith's torso, before jotting down a number onto the piece of paper on the desk. She then went on to measure the width of his torso and chest, the length of his shoulders, and the length and width of his arms.

All the while, Kennith was fidgeting nervously as he stared intently at the timer. This was taking forever. "Could you please hurry up? We've already wasted two minutes."

Nancy smiled. "No."

Kennith rolled his eyes. "Wow, _real mature,_ Nancy."

Nancy didn't respond to that, continuing to wear a pleasant smile as she walked over to a table with several sheets of fabric on top. "Now, usually you're supposed to draw the shirt pattern on some paper before cutting the fabric, but I guess we don't have time for that."

"Nope!" Kennith said unhelpfully as he followed her.

"I'm used to cutting patterns without the paper, so that's not a problem," Nancy continued, using a ruler to trace a pattern onto a large white sheet of fabric with a pencil. Every so often she would check the accuracy of her drawings by glancing over the measurements that she had written down. She hummed a tuneless song as she worked, appearing as though she didn't have a care in the world.

The moment that Nancy picked up a pair of scissors to cut the fabric with, Kennith called out, _"Wait!"_

Nancy froze. "What?"

"Can I cut it?"

"Have you cut fabric before?"

"Hell no."

"Then it'll be faster if I do it," Nancy said, bringing the scissors to the fabric again. 

But before she could make a cut, Kennith snatched the scissors out of her hands. "Oh, come on! It can't be _that_ hard! Look—" he grabbed a random corner of the sheet and attempted to cut it in order to demonstrate. The blades slipped sideways as he closed them. This left the fabric completely unscathed, much to Kennith's dismay. "—wait, huh?"

While Kennith was valiantly trying to prove himself, Nancy had already gotten another pair of scissors and had begun cutting. "If you're done, could you please try threading a needle with white thread? Thread two if you actually want to try hand-sewing."

"Got it!" Kennith immediately let go of the sheet, leaving Nancy scrambling to gather it up as she still had her scissors embedded in it. He went over to the supply box, and on the way there, he passed by the sewing machine. "Wait, why don't we just use the sewing machine? It'll be faster."

"Do you know _how_ to use a sewing machine?"

"Nope."

"Then you'll end up ruining the shirt," Nancy answered. Her tone was growing irritated. "I could finish the shirt in no time if we used it, but I didn't think I was doing _all_ the work for this challenge."

"Okay, okay, you're not, geez," Kennith huffed, reaching into the box to pull out a pin cushion and a spool of white thread. Even _he_ knew how to thread a needle, at least. After cutting a long string of thread from the spool, he fumbled while tying one end into a knot. He then went on to try and insert the open end into the eye of a needle, squinting from the effort.

Nancy suddenly appeared at his side, holding multiple pieces of fabric in her arms. "Done yet?"

Kennith nearly dropped the needle. _"Jesus f—_ hello there!" he said, narrowly avoiding a slip-up. "Geez, Nancy, how are you so quiet?!"

Nancy said nothing, eyeing the needle in Kennith's hand expectantly instead.

Kennith followed her gaze, wilting as he noticed what she was looking at. "Oh. Yeah. No, obviously not," he said flatly.

Nancy huffed a sigh, placing the pile of fabric on a nearby chair and taking the needle and thread from Kennith's hands. She threaded it easily in one try before returning it to Kennith. Then she cut another white thread from the spool, and threaded that one just as quickly as the first.

Kennith watched her with a frown. "Show off," he muttered. 

He checked the clock. Ten minutes. They actually had more time than he thought. Huh.

“The whole point of me being here is to do that, _right?”_ Nancy asked. From the tone of her voice, it sounded like it was a question that wasn’t meant to be answered. Without waiting for Kennith to respond, she plucked the pin cushion from the box of supplies, and withdrew a few pins from the small pillow.

Kennith groaned. “Are you really gonna have an attitude for the rest of the episode? I already said that you’re basically a co-host today.” He turned his head to look back at Nancy. “Listen, I guess for what it’s worth, I’m sor— _OH MY GOD?!”_

Nancy was calmly, carefully, and comfortably… 

...sticking pins into her left forearm.

 _“NANCY!”_ Kennith called to her, and as she raised her head in attention, he continued, “What are you _doing?!”_

Nancy frowned, looking at Kennith like this was another part of sewing that he didn’t understand. “I’m getting some pins for when we sew the shirt together,” she said plainly. Innocently. “I was planning on moving back to the chair from before to sew, so this was how I was going to carry the pins over there. I can’t just balance them on top of the rest of the materials, Kennith,” she sighed, exasperated.

Kennith gaped at her. “You can _bring_ the pin cushion.”

Nancy stared back with a blank look on her face. 

She glanced down at her arm for a moment, and then back up at Kennith. “Oh.”

Kennith ran a hand through his hair, feeling lightheaded from seeing at Nancy's puncture wounds. He seemed a bit pale. “Oookay, I’m gonna… I’m probably gonna faint,” he said, trying to look anywhere but Nancy’s arm. “That’s so messed up. What the _hell...”_

Nancy shrugged. "It's not that bad. I'm used to it." She stuck a few more pins into her forearm, rousing sounds of alarm and disgust from the audience. She didn't even flinch from the pain. She acted as though this was as normal and mundane as doing laundry, cooking dinner, or sweeping the floor. 

Kennith was mortified. _This woman is crazy._

Scooping the pile of fabric back into her arms, Nancy briskly made her way towards the chair at the middle of the stage. Still completely unsure of what he was supposed to be doing, Kennith trailed behind her, needle and thread in hand. He suddenly felt really uncomfortable holding onto those materials.

Reclaiming her seat, Nancy placed the pile she was carrying onto the arm of the chair, before selecting two of the patterns that were almost identical to each other. She put one on top of the other before saying, "Kennith, hold one side, please."

Taking a breath, Kennith gulped down his nerves as he took a seat on top of the TVs again. Steeling himself, he faced Nancy in order to properly hold the fabric together. They had a challenge to do, and he had a show to run. Therefore, he couldn't let his fear get the best of him.

That was pretty hard to do as Nancy casually retrieved two slightly bloody pins from her arm to pin the patterns together, but Kennith managed. Barely.

Nancy held up her needle, along with a handful of the fabric. "Okay, are you watching? I'm going to show you the technique for sewing now. Ready?"

Kennith nodded, taking another breath. "Yeah."

"Alright, watch closely," Nancy said, before sticking the needle downwards through the edge of the two patterns. She turned the needle around, stuck it halfway through the patterns, looped the leftover thread around the needle, and then pulled the rest of the needle through the patterns. She repeated this a few more times, slowly stitching one side of the shirt together.

Kennith looked on with mild fascination, his fear momentarily forgotten. He glanced down at the materials in his hands, hesitating. "Right, so…" he began, without having a follow-up to that. 

Nancy leaned over to him, holding her end of the pattern and her needle up so that Kennith could see. "Here, look, you start with the needle down," she began to repeat the motion, "then you go back up, but not all the way," she stuck the needle halfway through the fabric again, "loop the rest of the thread around the needle," she did so, "and then you pull it through. Then you do it over and over again, simple as that."

Kennith blinked in surprise. That wasn't too complicated, actually. "Huh… okay," he said, before he began to mimic her actions. 

His first few tries were clumsy, obviously, but he began to get the hang of it after a while. Although he wasn't exactly stitching in a straight line, he felt like he had gotten a good feel for the technique. He found that there was a sort of rhythm to sewing, probably because of the repetition. _No wonder Nancy listens to the radio while she sews,_ he thought.

He raised his head to look over at Nancy. She seemed like she was in her own little world as she lost herself within the motions of sewing. All irritation directed at Kennith from earlier was gone from her expression. In short, she looked peaceful. Perfectly content.

What an excellent time to try and make a joke that he's been holding onto for this entire episode!

Kennith leaned forward with a cheeky grin on his face. He put on a faux teen-girl voice as he asked, "Sooo, what did Stacey say yesterday?"

There were a few giggles within the audience from hearing Kennith's voice. Meanwhile, Nancy had looked up in confusion. "What? Who's Stacey?"

Kennith inwardly cringed. Okay, so Nancy didn't get the joke. Maybe if he kept it going, she'd eventually get it? 

He continued, "JESUS, Stacey, that _bit—_ bad person," he quickly saved himself from another slip-up. "She would just NOT shut up about her job! Just going ON AND ON about how shi—terrible it is. I mean," he scoffed, "if you hate your job SO MUCH, just quit! Don't go around bit—complaining and whining about your problems to the rest of us! _GOD!"_

Nancy had stopped sewing halfway through Kennith's rant. "Kennith, what are you talking about?"

Kennith wanted to scream. Thankfully, he held back, sighing in frustration as he reluctantly dropped the act. "It's… a joke, Nancy. I'm making fun of sewing circles. You know, where _gossip_ is shared and stuff?" he explained, every word being agonizing as hell to say. He _hated_ having to explain the joke.

Judging by Nancy’s expression, she still didn't understand. But regardless, she said, "Oh."

Kennith sighed again. "Yeah," he muttered, returning to his sewing.

They lapsed into silence after that. The two of them worked on the shirt with different speeds: Kennith just barely a quarter of the way up the torso of the shirt, and Nancy already getting started on a sleeve. Despite Kennith's slow pace, Nancy was patient with him. She avoided making any comments or telling him to hurry up, even though the shirt was at an awkward angle due to them working on different parts of the shirt. 

"This is actually kinda nice," Kennith spoke up after a while. "It's pretty relaxing."

Nancy nodded in agreement. "Yes, of course. In fact, that's one of the reasons why I sew," she said. She was wearing a small smile on her face, but it was starting to look a little sad. "It's been… one of my ways of dealing with stress. Especially ever since my husband, Henry, had…"

She trailed off, her voice suddenly getting quieter. 

Kennith looked up at her expectantly, eyebrows raised. When Nancy didn't say anything else, he pressed, "Henry had what?"

Nancy nervously cleared her throat. "He… um…" she faltered. Her tone wavered and she began to choke up. "W-Well, he… he left me. Long ago. He just… packed up and left," she finally admitted, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes as tears fell from them. "And I don't know why, but I've just thrown myself into sewing ever since then. I can't explain it."

The timer went off with a loud beep.

Nancy flinched at the sound. "Oh, goodness, we didn't even finish sewing," she said numbly. Then she realized something. "Wait, did I just bring the mood down again? At the end of the episode? Oh no…" She quickly brought her right arm up to wipe her eyes. "I didn't mean to do that, I'm sorry. I knew that I'd ruin the mood somehow..." she murmured.

Despite the lack of time and the unfinished shirt between them, Kennith beamed at her. "Nah, it's cool. Actually, I'm _glad_ you brought that up, Nancy!"

He suddenly dropped all of the tools and materials that he was holding, springing up from his seat on the TVs in order to stand over a bewildered Nancy.

"Glad?" Nancy echoed. "What do you mean, _glad?"_ she demanded.

Kennith’s grin widened. "I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, Nancy," he leaned forward, speaking in a loud whisper, _"I lied again about why you're here."_

Nancy was reeling, teetering on the verge of spiraling. _"Wait, **what?!"**_

"Thaaat's right!" Kennith made a grand gesture by spinning around once, tangling himself up even further in the wire of his microphone before saying, "I didn't bring you here to sew at all! I brought you onto the show _because…"_

He paused for dramatic effect.

"...I have a _surprise_ for you~!" he lilted.

A different upbeat song—with the same tempo as the one before it—began playing from the speakers. The audience gasped and chattered in anticipation, excited for whatever was about to happen. She didn't know why, but Nancy couldn't help but look towards the curtain on the far left of the stage as soon as the music started playing.

Gesturing to the curtain, Kennith boomed, "Everyone, please give a round of applause for our favorite tortured soul with a typewriter: Henry Elsner!"

No one walked out from the curtains.

To be more precise: a man was _shoved_ through them.

Landing unceremoniously onto the stage floor was a man dressed in a faded green suit and black dress shoes. As he scrambled to pick himself up, it was easier to see the rest of him: he wore a white dress shirt underneath his suit jacket, along with a pink tie with white polka dots. He had a head of well-combed dark brown hair, olive-colored eyes, and wore glasses with large square frames. 

Nancy gasped as her husband appeared, dropping her sewing materials as she rushed over to him with tears in her eyes. _"Henry!"_ she cried out.

Henry didn't seem as thrilled. He stood completely still as Nancy embraced him, the hug not registering to him in the slightest. He looked directly at Kennith, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide open.

Kennith returned his look with a mere shrug and a smirk.

 _“Why,”_ Henry started, not even acknowledging Nancy. “Why is she here. Why did you have her see me,” he said, rather than asked. His tone was somewhere between demanding and horrified as he continued, _“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”_

Kennith sighed tiredly, sprawling himself over the armchair that Nancy had left empty. “Uh, reunited you with your loving wife? Pretty sweet, huh?” he chirped.

Henry shook his head, bringing his arms up to try and gently push Nancy away. She didn’t budge. He gritted his teeth in frustration. “No, it’s _not._ You have _no_ clue how many years I’ve wasted hiding, all just to have her find me here—” he was cut off by a tight squeeze of Nancy’s arms around his ribcage. He tried to push her off again to no avail. “Nancy, honey, please get off of me, I can’t breathe,” he pleaded.

“I haven’t seen you for so long, I just can’t help it!” Nancy said, burying her face in Henry’s chest. The crowd went ‘awww’ at this. “God, I was worried sick when you disappeared, Henry! And now you’re here! You’re here, right in front of me, alive and real and truly—!”

 _“Nancy,”_ Henry wheezed, “I _really_ can’t breathe, if you could please—”

“I’m _never_ letting go! I might lose you again!” Nancy protested.

The crowd went ‘awww’ once more. Henry could feel his face turning purple. He threw his best approximation of a glare at Kennith, who gave him another shrug. “Kennith, you told me that if I came here, you would introduce me to people who would help me forge a fake identity.”

“Ohhh, _did I?”_ Kennith asked mockingly. He leaned his elbows onto the top of the chair, before resting his chin in his hands. He hummed thoughtfully, “Mmm, I _guess_ I did?” He tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “...Yeah, probably. I just can’t believe you fell for it. I mean, I’m only eighteen; how would I know about any of _that?”_ he said with a laugh. The audience laughed as well, apparently appreciating Kennith’s trickery.

Henry looked absolutely depressed as Nancy continued to hug him. He covered his face with his hands before groaning loudly in utter despair. Nancy paid him no mind, looking as blissfully happy as she had been while sewing.

Deciding that it was finally time, Kennith got up from his chair and addressed the audience with a flourish. “Well, wasn’t this just touching? I thought I’d change things up a bit and include something heartwarming for once. _Sooo,_ what did everyone think?” he asked with an expectant glance across the audience.

The crowd cheered enthusiastically. Henry groaned loudly again.

Kennith laughed at their responses. “Everyone liked this, then! Thank you all for the feedback! I’ll try and see if I can do something like this again. But for now—” he gestured to himself, “—my name is Kennith Simmons, and this has been COLOR-TV! Join us next time, and remember: I’ve always been here!”

The show ended with uproarious applause from the audience as the screen slowly faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there again! Remember how the last episode had a bunch of outtakes? Well this week’s episode only had one, thankfully!
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DTvFMf2R5C3OO4aGVxvPYiKbSvpSKDcGq1AVhM81e8A/edit?usp=sharing
> 
> Ta-da! What a mistake!


	4. Episode 4: A Deity's Performance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one sure took a while to write, FOR GOOD REASON. I mean look at the word count on this one! It was surprisingly difficult to research stuff for this chapter, haha. But on the bright side, I had a lot of fun writing the guest star! So I hope you all enjoy today's episode!

Five minutes until showtime.

_Man, that's a whole lotta time…_

That's what Kennith thought as he fidgeted nervously on the couch in the green room. Not that he was _troubled_ about anything; in fact, things have gotten _much_ better since episode three! The emails had basically stopped after his apology last week, and ratings for the show have returned to how they originally were: _overwhelmingly_ positive!

His only complaint was that he had been getting a lot of phone calls from Frances. She had been pestering him, _demanding_ for him to tell her where Henry and Nancy were for days now. Kennith never answered her questions of course, and he eventually blocked her number after a while. And Kennith thought _he_ was annoying…

No, the reason that he had so much nervous energy was because he was excited for today's episode! Unlike the previous episode, Kennith was actually looking forward to this one. He had been eyeing it on the schedule ever since he first began airing the show, and now the day has come! The audience was sure to love this one!

From the corner of his eye, he spotted the guest star for today. As the guest walked past him to go backstage, Kennith gave the guest a thumbs up. The guest returned the gesture, albeit with a little less enthusiasm, just before leaving the room. 

Kennith grinned widely. Yesiree, he just couldn't wait! This was going to be _amazing!_

He stood up from his seat and decided to head backstage as well. He was just getting restless waiting here, so he might as well make his way to the stage before the excitement kills him. By the time that he arrived backstage, he had made it just before the show started.

He practically skipped over to the curtain, and once his theme music began playing, he ran out onto the stage with the most energy that he's ever had while making his entrance.

_Ladies and gentlemen, it's showtime!_

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kennith tripped.

He had only gone a few steps past the red curtain before he unceremoniously faceplanted onto the stage floor.

Anyone with eyes could see that it was because the wire tangled around him had finally decided to obey the laws of physics, thus restricting Kennith's movement considerably. Another reason could have been that Kennith simply lost balance in his excitement to start the show, or maybe his foot had gotten caught in the curtain as he ran through it. Or, perhaps, it was just his luck that the universe saw fit to have him trip and fall right as his most anticipated episode began.

Regardless, the audience immediately stopped their cheering, starting up instead with noises of concern and alarm.

Coming to his senses, Kennith remembered where he was and what he was doing. With a groan, he propped himself up with his arms before attempting to stand up. His face hurt like hell. Just grimacing in discomfort intensified the pain. His arms also hurt because he tried to use them to break his fall. Not too successful there, judging by how much his head ached. He had also bumped his knees on the way down as well. Gee, everything sure was _dandy_ right now, wasn't it?

_Oh, wait a minute._

A realization dawned on him, and he frantically checked the microphone in his right hand. Fortunately, it appeared to be completely unscathed.

Kennith sighed in relief. At least there's that.

Standing up, he made a show of dusting himself off before making his way— _walking_ this time—to the front of the stage. Despite the pain he felt, he struck his usual pose and smiled.

"Hello everyone, and welcome to COLOR-TV! I'm your host, Kennith Simmons!" he announced, tone exactly as happy and energetic as all of his other intros. He pointed to the curtain behind him with his thumb. "Sorry about the fall there, I guess I'm just kinda clumsy today," he added with a laugh. "I'll be fine though, don't worry. After all, injured or not, the show must go on!"

As the audience applauded his apparent resolve to continue the show, Kennith took note of the sound of their cheers. Fortunately, it sounded more in-line with the audience he knew before episode two had happened. _That's a good sign,_ he thought with a smile. That meant that he was back to hosting the show correctly now! Or, at least, in a way that the audience enjoyed, anyway.

With a slight limp, he strolled over to the set of TVs before beginning to climb to the top of the stack as always. "Usually this is the part where I report on how COLOR-TV is doing in ratings and such," he said as he climbed, "but I don't really have much to say there. Long story short, we're doing well again!" He finally took a seat on the TV on top, striking another pose for the audience as he did. "And _once again,_ I just can't express how grateful I am to you, my lovely audience, for your loyal support!"

He patiently waited for the crowd to stop applauding with a grin. The one thing that he loved most about his audience was how enthusiastic they always were. They were supportive, encouraging, and best of all: responsive! In all honesty, he never could have asked for a more perfect audience!

Once the cheers had died down, Kennith gestured to the curtain with a wide flourish. "But enough about the boring stuff, let's move on to the _fun_ stuff! And let me tell you: I've been _dying_ to get to this episode ever since episode one, _hoo boy,"_ he remarked with a chuckle. "Anyway, let's give a round of applause for our favorite multi-talented clown: Star of the Show!"

Loud, semi-cacophonous carnival music began playing from the speakers, catching the audience off-guard with its composition. As soon as the song started playing, a figure emerged from the curtains faster than a human should be able to move.

Backflipping several times onto the stage, the figure appeared to be a girl with short lime-green hair, wearing a poofy, multi-colored dress. The dress had lavender suspenders and a wide black belt with an eye as its clasp. She wore fingerless silk gloves with pink and green bands on the wrists, stockings that had seafoam green and grey polka-dots on the right leg and black-and-white stripes on the other, and black lace-up flats with lime-green accents. On her head she wore a small top hat that appeared to double as a jack-in-the-box, complete with a crank in its side and a toy clown head popping out of the crown from a spring.

In short, the guest’s outfit was very, _very_ complicated and colorful.

The Star performed a few more backflips until she reached the middle of the stage, where she then ended her entrance with a somersault that left her facing the audience with a smile and both of her arms raised in a sort of "ta-da!" gesture. The audience instantly erupted with impressed cheering.

Kennith joined in with them, excited beyond belief for what was to come. "Well, color me impressed! That was _amazing!"_ he praised, genuine wonder gleaming in his eyes.

Despite his encouragement, The Star's smile faltered ever so slightly. "Thanks," she said. Her voice was high-pitched and nasally, and despite her words, her tone lacked any hint of actual appreciation.

There was a pause. Kennith waited for her to say more.

...It seemed that was all she had to say to that.

Kennith cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, anyway, welcome to the show, Star! We're so glad to have you here!" he chirped as The Star made her way to the seat beside Kennith. "Still in the circus?"

Sitting down, The Star tried for another smile. _Tried_ being the key word. But as soon as Kennith asked his question, her smile vanished. "Of COURSE I'm still in the circus," she snapped. "What _else_ am I supposed to do? Make a fool of myself on live TV?" She waved a hand not-so-subtly towards Kennith. "Gimme a break!"

Her sarcasm caused the audience to laugh. Meanwhile, Kennith just sat there with his mouth pressed into a thin line, eyebrows raised. "...O...kay. Cool," he said after a moment, eyes drifting to the side.

The clown smirked at his reaction, apparently finding it amusing. She added, "And by the way, 'Star of the Show' isn't my stage name, that's just what they put on the posters." She spared a glance towards the audience. "My stage name is Dizzy the Clown. 'Dizzy' for short."

Kennith nodded in understanding. _"Ohhh,_ that's right, thanks for clari—"

"Oh come on, you knew that already, didn't you?" Dizzy cut in.

Kennith blinked, surprised by the interruption. "Huh?"

"I mean, you know all of our names before we come onto the show," Dizzy continued, making a wide sweeping gesture with both of her arms at... nothing in particular. "Why do you gotta do this stupid thing where you pretend not to know them?" she demanded.

Kennith was taken aback by her tone. That, and the fact that he wasn't used to the guests not following his lead, at least not at first. "Uh..." he said dumbly. "Well... it's kinda hard to explain."

Dizzy folded her arms. "I'm all ears."

"...And _I_ don't have time for that!" Kennith started up again with his trademark energy. And impatience. "We run a tight schedule here on COLOR-TV! _Sooo,_ that means we're _done_ with the small talk now!" He said with a tight smile. A warning smile. Aimed directly down towards Dizzy.

Dizzy looked like she wanted to protest, but she let it go for now. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Dodging the question, huh..." she muttered.

Kennith ignored her, changing the subject as fast as he could. _"Anyways!_ Ready to perform some pretty incredible circus acts for the audience to enjoy?"

Dizzy's bitter look was very quickly replaced with one of surprise. "Wait, what?"

"Thaaat's right!" Kennith declared, kicking his legs in excitement. He quickly stopped, however, once the pain in his legs flared up from the movement. Trying his best to hide the pain from his expression, he continued, "As you've all seen, Dizzy the Clown is _not_ your typical clown. While she can do acrobatics with ease, that’s not _all_ of the tricks that she has up her sleeve! So for today's episode, we're going to behold all of the amazing acts that Dizzy can do, _all at once!"_

The crowd roared with cheers and clapping, clearly excited at the idea of having a professional circus performer on the show.

Dizzy, meanwhile, was _furious._ "Hey, so, would it be hard to explain why you _lie_ to everyone on the show, too?" she growled through gritted teeth. "You told me that I was just going to _teach_ you how to do some circus stuff. You didn't say that I was going to be the main act."

"Ohhhhh, _diiiiid IIIII?"_ Kennith drawled, putting one hand on his hip, tilting the upper half of his body 90 degrees to the right, and tapping a finger to his cheek. It was perhaps his most extreme pose yet.

It seemed to have no effect on Dizzy as she flatly answered, "Yes. _You did."_

They stared at each other for a moment.

Without moving from his position, Kennith said, "Yeah, you're right. I just wanted to see how you'd react if I said that."

"Hilarious. Look, you made everyone laugh," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Ironically, her comment did rouse a few laughs from the audience.

Re-orienting himself, Kennith said, "Hey, this time I didn't _mean_ to lie to you! I tripped on my way out from the curtain, so I _really_ can't do too much right now!" He draped himself over the top of the TV, feigning weakness with a swoon. "Yes, alas, _I'm injured!_ Oh, so very injured! But as a good TV show host, I can't just leave my audience with _nothing!"_

There was a pause.

After a moment, Kennith peeked out from under the arm that he had over his eyes, finding that Dizzy was staring back at him with a puzzled look.

"Dude," she began, "are you high?"

"Nah, I'm just really excited," Kennith answered, grinning from ear to ear. "And I mean, it's not like you've never done this before, right? This is basically your job. You always perform in front of people, so this should be easy!"

Dizzy averted her gaze with a scowl. "Yeah, you'd think that, huh," she grumbled under her breath.

Kennith tilted his head curiously. "What was that?"

"Nothing. Fine. Whatever," she continued to mutter, looking anywhere but at the audience. She suddenly seemed distant. "Sure, my circus acts. Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

"Yay!" Kennith cheered, clapping his hands together. He laughed briefly before saying, "You're surprisingly easier to convince than the previous guests! This is gonna be great!"

Dizzy made a noncommittal sound, which ended up sounding a whole lot like an annoyed groan. But that wasn't a "no," so Kennith decided that Dizzy was perfectly and totally okay with doing this! How wonderful and generous of her to finally play along!

Reaching down from his spot atop the TVs, Kennith grabbed the blue remote hidden behind the screens and pressed a seemingly random button on it. 

From there, three things happened at once.

First, the section of the stage beneath the chair and the stack of TVs began to lower into the floor, presumably to make room for the circus acts. As soon as the floor started to sink, Kennith hopped off of the TV set onto the actual stage floor. Dizzy followed suit, mildly surprised by how complicated the stage set was.

Next, two small platforms supported by tall, thin poles emerged from the floor: one coming up from where the chair and TVs once were, and another rising up from far behind the audience. Both platforms rose to their full heights: the stage's platform being 30 feet tall and the other being 10 feet tall in order to compensate for the staircase seating of the crowd. After that, a tightrope shot out from the audience-side platform and attached itself to its counterpart, which stood a good distance away. Both platforms had rope ladders that hung from the top of their respective platforms.

Finally, the small circular platform on the right of the stage began to rotate, slowly revealing piles upon piles of circus equipment. Bowling pins, hoops, plates, balancing poles—you name it, and it was probably there. Other things of note were a small table, a large board with a target on it, a lit brazier, a trampoline, and _an entire freaking lion trapped in a cage._

If Dizzy was surprised before, she was now _astonished._ "Whoa," was all that she could say. Her eyes darted around as the studio set changed itself to resemble that of a circus, mouth agape. "Holy _shit,_ Kennith."

"Language," Kennith scolded lightly. But despite Dizzy's slip-up, he beamed, glancing around as well to appreciate his work. "Pretty neat, huh?"

Dizzy rushed over to the pile of equipment, rummaging through the materials with wide eyes. "How the hell did you even get all of this?!"

Kennith hummed thoughtfully, rocking back and forth on his heels. "That's for _me_ to know, and for everyone here to never, _ever_ find out!" he chirped ominously. He walked a short distance to where Dizzy was, folding his hands behind his back expectantly. "So! What are you gonna do first?"

Suddenly, Dizzy stopped. She turned to look at Kennith, narrowing her eyes as she did so. "Did... did you not have a plan for what I was gonna do? "

 _"No,"_ Kennith scoffed, "why would I have a plan? I have no idea what to do with any of this stuff! I just kinda... got all of it. Just in case!"

Dizzy furrowed her brow. She looked back at the circus equipment, pouting as she mulled over what her first act should be. "Hmm."

"Maybe you should start with doing clown things?" Kennith suggested with a shrug. "I mean, you _are_ a clown."

"Hmm," Dizzy hummed again, unhelpfully. She began to rummage through the pile again. "I actually think you can help me out with that. You're not too far from a clown yourself."

"Ha ha, real funny."

"No, I'm serious." She glanced at him, looking earnest. "You should be able to do what I can do, easy."

Kennith blinked, completely caught off-guard by her honesty. He fidgeted a little, unsure of where Dizzy was going with this. "But I'm... not a clown," he managed to say.

"No? Then why are you dressed like one?"

Immediately, the audience resounded with one long 'oooh.'

Kennith's face flushed in embarrassment at the sound. "Okay. Ouch."

"Heeheehee." Dizzy grinned cheekily, her honest facade broken by complete and utter smugness at her own joke. Then just as quickly, she stopped smiling. "No, but really, I'm gonna try to be a clown while I do everything else. That's what apparently makes my shows 'unique' and 'exhilarating,'" she added, making air-quotes with her fingers and rolling her eyes.

Finally, after much internal debate, she selected six cylinders from the collection, setting them aside from the pile for her to use. One of the cylinders was wooden, while the rest were hollow and made of metal. They were all twelve inches long and five inches in diameter. She also removed an inconspicuous-looking wooden board from the pile, tucking it under her arm.

Standing up, she picked up the small table that stood to the side of all of the equipment, and carried it over to the left side of the stage. "Kennith, could you bring all the other stuff over here?" she called.

"Uh, sure," Kennith said. He scrambled to scoop up the cylinders, trying—and failing for a few seconds—to quickly stack them on top of each other. After he had gotten a good hold on all of them (which was difficult because he absolutely _refused_ to let go of his microphone), he did as he was told and brought the materials over to Dizzy.

After placing the table down, Dizzy watched impatiently as Kennith set the cylinders onto the stage. She retrieved the wooden cylinder before innocently asking, "Kennith, have you ever heard of a rola-bola?"

Kennith shook his head. "Nope!"

"Well, it's basically a fancy term for a balancing board," Dizzy continued, turning the cylinder in her hands on its side and carefully placing it onto the table. She then hopped onto the table, setting the board down onto the cylinder. The board fell diagonally, since it was on top of its round side. "Alright, is everyone ready?"

Kennith balked. "Wait, we're starting already?"

“Hell _yeah_ we are!" Dizzy clapped her hands together, a determined look in her eyes. "Well, ready or not, here we go!"

With that, she jumped onto the board, straightening it out somewhat. Steadying her balance in seconds, she rocked back and forth on the board really fast, somehow maintaining her center of gravity as she did. She even jumped a few times, folding her knees to her chest at the apex of her jumps, and landing perfectly back down onto the board with ease. 

Kennith couldn't help but gape. "Whoa!"

"Hey Kennith," Dizzy called, leaning forward and balancing on one leg in a perfect arabesque. Somehow, as she performed this impressive routine, her tone remained conversational. "Go get a hoop from the pile over there. Hurry."

"Aye-aye!"

Kennith ran over to the small platform, and returned just as fast with the requested metal hoop.

"Thanks," Dizzy said, re-orienting herself after performing a handstand. She then held her hands out towards Kennith. "Now toss it up here," she instructed.

Kennith did so, and she caught it. Not wasting any time, she swung the hoop towards her and jumped through it. Just like before, she landed back down onto the balancing board with hardly any difficulty. She then did this a few more times, practically using the hoop as a jump rope.

Suffice to say, the crowd was going _wild_ over this.

Dizzy took that as a sign to take things up a notch. "Okay!" She suddenly tossed the hoop behind her, careless as to where it landed. After dismounting from the board and getting rid of the wooden cylinder beneath it with a kick to the side, she said, "Kennith, the rest of the tubes please."

Kennith nodded before beginning to hand her the hollow cylinders, one at a time. For the first tube, Dizzy set it down with the flat side on the surface of the table. For the next one, she placed it on its rounded side atop the first tube. She continued to do this, alternating the positions of every other tube, until all five of them were stacked all the way up to her waist.

It was right when she set the balancing board atop the stack that Dizzy realized something. She froze.

Kennith noticed this. "What's wrong?"

"Um..." Dizzy began sheepishly. She had realized two things just now. Unfortunately, only one of them would be easy to deal with. "I know I just kicked it away, but could you go get the wooden cylinder really quick?"

Kennith groaned. "Oh come on!" He began to jog towards the general direction of where the cylinder went.

Dizzy glared after him. "Well _fine,_ if it's such a damn bother, I guess I can do without it. Since it's _such_ a pain in the ass for you."

Kennith stopped mid-run, glancing back at Dizzy in confusion. He didn't even notice that she had sworn twice. "What? But I was just about to—"

"No, _no,_ it's fine, since you're _injured_ and all. Wouldn't want the host of the show to hurt himself even more. _No,_ of course not," Dizzy said, her tone nothing but sardonic.

Kennith paused. Then he slowly made his way back over to where Dizzy was. "O...kay."

Paying no mind to Kennith, Dizzy focused her attention back towards her balancing act. Steadying the stack of cylinders with her hands, she tilted her head back and forth, trying to figure out how to approach her problem. Several times, she looked as if she was about to jump on top of the stack, but each time she faltered, stopping her attempt with a shake of her head.

Kennith blinked up at her in concern. "Are you... uh... having trouble there, Dizzy?"

 **_"Shut up, Kennith, stop rushing me!"_ **she suddenly snapped.

Kennith flinched from the force of her voice. "I-I didn't even say anything about—"

 _"Shut up!"_ Dizzy repeated, gritting her teeth in frustration. "Just—I'm trying to _focus!"_

Wilting slightly, Kennith did as he was told and stopped talking.

Once Kennith had fallen silent, Dizzy once again took stock of the situation, pursing her lips. The problem that she had so stupidly gotten herself into was that she needed the wooden cylinder in order to jump on top of the tall stack. While she was able to jump pretty high, she wasn’t too confident in being able to keep her balance if she managed to land on the rola-bola. This wasn’t good at all.

Dizzy could feel nervous sweat gathering on her forehead. The audience was quiet. They were obviously expecting her to succeed at this; she couldn’t just let them down now. How could she salvage this?

...It was then that she got an idea.

Dizzy forced a grin onto her face, taking a breath to psych herself up. She wasn’t exactly excited about what she was about to do, but it was the only choice she had left. “Alright! Here we go!” she declared. 

With that, she hopped atop the tower of cylinders, successfully landing on the board on top. Unfortunately, just as she had predicted, she wasn’t able to balance herself out in time. As a result, she—along with the cylinders and board—came crashing down onto the stage floor with several thuds. 

Kennith jumped back as the setup fell apart, but rushed towards Dizzy just as soon as it was over. Kneeling beside the sprawled-out clown, he worriedly asked, “Oh my god, Dizzy are you alright??”

Immediately, Dizzy sat up with that grin still on her face. She raised her arms in that "ta-da!" pose again. “Well, that was just _wackaroni!”_ she said in a singsong voice.

Kennith stared at her. “...What?”

There was a beat of silence.

Suddenly the audience burst out laughing.

Kennith then stared at the crowd in disbelief. “Wait, what?? What the heck was _that?!”_ He turned to Dizzy again. “Was that a catchphrase or something?” he demanded.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Dizzy began to get up, dusting herself off as she did. Unlike Kennith, she didn’t appear to be hurt from falling. She’s had worse, after all. “I made that up on the spot, though. Just to try it out. I only have one catchphrase right now, but I guess since everyone liked that new one, I’ll use it more,” she explained with a carefree shrug.

Humming tunelessly to herself, Dizzy made her way back towards the pile of circus tools. Just like before, she began searching through the immense collection.

Kennith frowned. After a short pause, he stood up to follow her, muttering, "Why doesn't anyone laugh at _my_ catchphrases?"

Hearing him, Dizzy flatly replied, "Because they're not funny. _Duh."_

"But they're iconic! I say them in every episode!" Kennith countered.

"Doesn't mean that they're funny, dude."

"Yours wasn't funny, it was just random! And like you said, it wasn't even a real catchphrase; you made it up just now!"

"Yeah…" Dizzy gave him a look. "But it _worked._ Didn't it?"

Kennith looked like he was about to say something, but decided against it. Instead, he gave up with a huff, folding his arms.

Dizzy shrugged again, careless toward the small victory. "Hey, some advice from one entertainer to another? Random _sells,_ dude. Especially nowadays."

If it was even possible, Kennith's mood soured even more from the advice. That's right; unlike Kennith, Dizzy was an actual, _professional_ entertainer. _She_ had years of training and experience under her belt. Compared to her, Kennith was practically nothing but a naive upstart with access to resources he should never have, a camera, and _way_ too much enthusiasm. 

So, with that in mind, Kennith pretended to _not_ take a mental note of her advice. "Okay. Thanks," he grumbled.

"No problemo," Dizzy replied. Then she perked up as she found something. "Ah, here we go! I was starting to think you somehow didn't get these."

Since he was standing behind her, Kennith couldn't see what Dizzy was holding. He tried to move in order to catch a glimpse of whatever it was. "Get what?"

Dizzy turned around, holding the items out towards him with an odd gleam in her eye. _"These!"_

Upon seeing them, Kennith simply stared in quiet horror.

Fanned out in Dizzy's hands were… a set of _throwing knives._

Dizzy held the fan of weapons close to her chest, beaming. "Heeheehee," she giggled, tilting her head curiously. "What's wrong? Scared of _knives,_ Kennith? Or do you not trust me or something?"

"It's… not that." Kennith continued to stare at the razor-sharp blades. He gulped. "I just… I wasn't expecting this. I know tha _t_ I'm the one who got the knives, but I didn't think you'd end up using them. Like how I'm pretty sure you can't get through most of this stuff in a single episode," he said numbly.

"Hmm, yeah, I guess," Dizzy shrugged, setting the knives back down on the ground before standing up. She went over to a large wooden board that sat on a short, wheeled platform. The board was propped up from behind, and had several targets painted on it. Pushing the board to the other end of the stage, she called, "Kennith, could you get the wheel one and bring it over? Just put it right next to this one."

Snapping back to reality, Kennith rushed to do as he was told. "Yeah, got it."

And with that, the setup for the next circus act was ready in mere minutes. After both boards were rolled into position (and the wheels were blocked so that they wouldn't roll afterwards), Dizzy moved Kennith so that he was standing in front of the rectangular board, right in the middle of the small targets that framed the wood. With a nod to herself, Dizzy turned to walk to the opposite end of the stage.

Kennith watched her move farther away from him. He thought that she was going back to the pile of equipment to retrieve the knives, and then she'd come back to throw the knives from a short, reasonable distance. But no, after she had picked up the knives, she continued her walk, stopping only when she had reached the far, _far_ end of the stage.

Kennith's eyes widened at this. "Uhh… Dizzy? Are you _sure_ you should be throwing from that far away?" he asked tentatively. 

Dizzy laughed again. "What? Are you scared I'll hurt you? C'mon dude, I've been doing this for _years._ And I've never messed up. Never once," she gently said.

Kennith let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. That was reassuring to know. "Okay… alright then, I guess—"

"—And _besides!"_ Dizzy cut in breezily, toying with the blade of one of the knives. "I don't have a reason to hurt you _anyway,_ Kennith. No, _no,_ certainly not for lying to me, dodging my questions, whining, _and_ rushing me earlier. _Nooooo,_ of _course_ not," she drawled, a thin smile appearing on her face.

Kennith flinched. "H-Hey, wait, I didn't—"

"Oh, I kid, I kid," Dizzy said with a wave of her hand, her tone still eerily casual. She readied the knife she had been playing with, holding it from the tip of its blade a little behind her head. "Anyway, I'm starting now! Whatever you do, don't move a muscle!"

"Wait, Dizzy—!"

_"Aaand go!"_

In the blink of an eye, the knife left her hand, soaring across the stage in a wide arc towards Kennith. The potential victim in question yelped, his instincts screaming at him to curl in on himself defensively, but he forced himself to remain completely still. Bracing for the end, he screwed his eyes shut.

**THUD!**

_...Huh?_

Kennith tentatively cracked an eye open. Lo and behold, a throwing knife had stuck itself into the board behind him, the blade only a mere inch away from his head.

The crowd erupted in awed cheering.

"See? What did I say?" Dizzy spoke over the applause. _"Noth! Ing! To! Be! A! Fraid! Of!"_

**THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!**

Dizzy punctuated each syllable by throwing more knives, landing her shots perfectly and threateningly close in proximity to Kennith. As she continued on after speaking, it seemed that she had chosen to ignore the targets entirely, opting to aim as close as humanly possible to Kennith. All the while, Kennith stood rigidly still, not daring to challenge his luck by moving even the slightest bit. He scarcely breathed, in fact, due to how careful he was trying to be.

Pretty soon, there was a near-perfect outline of Kennith stabbed into the wooden board. Once Dizzy had run out of knives, she bowed to the audience, who only praised her all the more for her skills.

Meanwhile, Kennith collapsed to his knees, shaking and clutching his chest. "Oh my god, oh my freaking _god,"_ he breathed.

"Hey now!" Dizzy clapped her hands several times to get his attention. At some point, she had come over to retrieve the knives, and Kennith hadn't noticed. "Don't keel over on me now, we're not done yet! There's another board we gotta use! Come on!"

Kennith gaped at her, eyes wide. "You can't be serious."

Dizzy smiled as an idea came to her. "You're right. I can't be serious. _I'm a clown!"_

She laughed heartily at her own joke, and Kennith's heart sunk as a realization dawned on him. _Oh god,_ _is this what it feels like? Didn’t think I'd ever be on this end_ , he thought. He'd appreciate the irony of the situation if he wasn't so terrified right now.

Reluctantly, he obliged to let Dizzy help him up and lead him over to the wheel. After wrangling the microphone out of Kennith's hand and setting it aside, Dizzy strapped Kennith down onto the circular board, spread eagle, before hefting one side of the wheel up and heaving it down. This caused the wheel to spin _incredibly_ fast. Kennith watched as the studio around him quickly melded into an unrecognizable blur.

_"AaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAa—"_

"Okay, Kennith!" Dizzy ran back to the spot where she was before, raising a knife in preparation. "Are you ready?"

"WhAaAaAaAaAaAt??"

"I said, _are you ready?!"_

"NoOoOoOoOoOoOoO!"

Dizzy grinned from ear-to-ear, suddenly realizing how much power she had right now. Better enjoy it while she still could. "Well, TOO BAD! Are you prepared to face _CERTAIN DEATH?!"_ she bellowed.

_"NoOoOoOoOoOoOoO!"_

"Death from STABBING? _IMPALEMENT? BLEEDING?!"_

**_"NoOoOoOoOoOoOoO!"_ **

"ARE YOU AFRAID OF _DYING,_ KENNITH?!"

Surprisingly, there was a pause. And then:

"...KindaAaAaAaAaAaAaA?"

"Well, ready or not, HERE WE GO!"

A knife wedged itself into the wood over Kennith's head faster than he could react. Another landed dangerously close to his stomach on his left side. Then his right. Then one landed dangerously close from between his legs.

The room was filled with several loud noises: the thud of the knives hitting the board, Kennith's screaming, the audience's excited cheering, and Dizzy's… laughter? Yes, Dizzy was laughing, and boy it sounded near- _maniacal._ This only worsened Kennith's concern as knives continued to land only a hair's width away from his limbs and head.

After what felt like an eternity—a long, _horrifying_ eternity—Dizzy ran out of knives again, much to Kennith's relief. With giggles still bubbling out of her, Dizzy hurried back to the wheel and gently handled it, gradually slowing the wheel to a stop. She then clumsily untied Kennith before collapsing to the ground in complete _hysterics._

Kennith nearly fell down after her. Just as soon as he was released, he struggled to stand upright, swaying precariously from side to side as the room continued to spin around him. He eventually steadied himself against the wheel he had just been freed from, trying to gulp down the beginnings of nausea that flared up inside him. "Okay, I'm seriously gonna puke," he groaned.

Dizzy peered up at him, saying between bits of laughter, "I guess—I guess _I'm_ the host of—of COLOR-TV now!"

"What do you..." Kennith began, before it clicked, "...oh. Ha ha, I get it," he sighed, dragging a hand down his face before using it to cover his mouth. Closing his eyes didn't help with the vertigo, either. _Damn it._

Finally calming down, Dizzy got up and strode back to the pile of supplies. "Well, while you try not to _horf_ all over your stage floor, I guess I'll get ready for the next act."

As Kennith gradually evened out his breathing, he tried to focus his gaze on a single thing, hoping that it would steady his vision. That particular thing, of course, happened to be Dizzy, who was currently pushing a long balancing beam to the middle of the stage.

Fully aware that complete silence in a TV show is not only jarring to the viewer, but also _boring,_ Kennith spoke up, "So… what exactly _can_ you do?"

"Oh, lotsa things," Dizzy replied, sounding oddly blasé about the topic. "Aside from what you've seen, I can do trapeze, pole balancing, swallow swords, animal acts, contortion, magic tricks, diabolo acts, stuff with roller skates, stuff with bicycles, stuff with trampolines, stuff with hula hoops—"

"—So basically _everything?"_ Kennith cut in.

Dizzy huffed an irritated sigh, moving to the other side of the beam to try and center it on the stage. She continued, "I mean, well, if it's a circus act, I've had to have tried it more than once at least. Doesn't mean I've done it _perfectly_ every time, but I _have_ tried everything."

Kennith glanced toward the pile. "We have a lion here. Could you maybe try using that?" he asked hopefully. It wasn't easy getting a lion, after all.

"Sure! If you'd like everyone here to get _mauled_ to death," she chirped with a tight smile. "Just because I can tame animals, it doesn't mean I can do it immediately. That takes time and a _shit-ton_ of patience. I'm not a _god,_ Kennith."

"Geez, I know that." Kennith frowned at her attitude before adding, "Also, language."

It was then that Dizzy made that particular noise that one makes when they're mocking someone else's words. This was accompanied by tilts of her head to accentuate each syllable. The best way to describe how it sounded is, _"Ah-theoh yan-gwehn."_ This, of course, roused a bit of laughter from the audience.

Kennith opened his mouth to retort, but promptly closed it when Dizzy brought out a unicycle and three unlit torches from the pile. She placed the torches beside the base of the brazier before leaning the unicycle next to the balancing beam.

She then put her hands on her hips and faced Kennith, putting on a pseudo-cheerful tone. "Okay! So! Are you done standing there, or were you planning on _not_ running a TV show today?"

It took Kennith a couple of blinks to realize that he wasn't dizzy or nauseous anymore. "Uh… right," he said dumbly. Standing upright now, he grabbed his microphone beside the wheel before heading over to the impatient clown.

Dizzy frowned at the device in his hands. "Do you _have_ to hold that all the time?"

Kennith didn't miss a beat. "Yes."

"Well, _good luck with that,_ because this act is gonna involve you giving me stuff again. And also other things. Say," Dizzy cocked her head to the side in mock-curiosity, "how does _revenge_ sound to you, Kennith?"

Kennith blinked in surprise, which seemed to be a reoccurring thing this episode. "Revenge? What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I mean, of course! How's about you get me back for throwing knives at you, huh?" Dizzy asked. It was obvious by the look on her face that she wasn't actually too enthusiastic about the idea. 

She turned to the audience and announced, "For my next trick, I will be balancing on this beam while riding a unicycle and juggling flaming torches!" She gestured to said props as she spoke. "And if _that_ wasn't enough, Kennith here will be shooting me with foam darts the entire time!"

The audience cheered in anticipation. Kennith, on the other hand, looked confused once more. "Uh, Dizzy?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't have a toy gun."

"You _don't?"_

"No, that's not really a circus thing."

"That's okay! You can borrow mine!"

With that, Dizzy took off her top hat, rummaged around aimlessly inside of it (yes, the end that _wasn't_ a jack-in-the-box), before pulling out a toy dart gun and handing it to Kennith.

Kennith stared at the fake gun in his hands. The gun that definitely shouldn't be able to fit inside such a tiny hat. Then his gaze moved to said hat, just as Dizzy put it back on. "How did you—"

"Boom! Magic! I said that I could do magic, didn't I? _Ta-da!"_ She took a bow before realizing something. She straightened up, a worried look appearing on her face. "Oh, wait, didn't you have a magic episode already? Did I just upstage him?" she asked.

Kennith tried to look anywhere but at the audience and camera as _certain memories_ came to mind. He kept his expression guarded as he said, "N… No, you didn't. Don't worry."

Dizzy breathed a sigh. "Phew, that's a relief. I _hate_ when I do that. Stealing the spotlight is such a jerk move, and I just keep doing it accidentally. Heeheehee."

For some reason, the word "spotlight" made Kennith wince. 

Dizzy decided not to question it as she lifted the unicycle up onto the balancing beam. After climbing onto the beam herself, she steadied the unicycle, set a foot on the wheel, and stepped onto the pedal with her other foot. She then used the small bit of momentum from her movement to quickly guide the rest of her onto the seat. 

This whole process happened in less than a second. After which Dizzy made a noise of alarm as she struggled to keep herself upright. The unicycle tipped and teetered dangerously in all directions.

Eyes widening in fear, Kennith ran over to her, arms outstretched. "Oh god Dizzy do you—"

 _"GODDAMMIT KENNITH STOP RUSHING ME!”_ Dizzy yelled out of nowhere.

Kennith jumped back. “I didn’t even—!”

 _“SHUT UP_ , I’VE GOT THIS!” 

And sure enough, Dizzy regained her footing (so to speak), and righted herself so that she was rolling ever-so-slightly forward and backward on the beam.

"There! See? Nothing to worry about," Dizzy said, visibly frazzled despite her words. "Okay now Kennith, go get the three torches, light only one of them, and bring them here."

Still a little shaken from the yelling, Kennith complied, already running over to the brazier. He promptly returned with two unlit torches in one hand, and one blazing torch in the other. He started to lean up to hand all of them over. "Alright, here you—"

"Not _yet,_ one at a time!" Dizzy scolded. "Give me the unlit torches first, and hold on to the lit one for a second."

Kennith did so, handing the torches to Dizzy while keeping the lit one an arm's length away from himself.

Dizzy nodded in approval. "Okay now stand like two meters in front of me." After Kennith moved to where she had instructed, she continued, "Perfect. So Kennith, here's a bit where you get to do a little performing for once! Think you're up for it?"

"Uhh," Kennith said, completely at a loss. "Sure, I guess?? What am I doing?"

"Something super simple! All you have to do is throw the torch for me to catch. Now, don't throw it like _this,"_ she demonstrated a throwing motion that moved in an arc. "Don't _chuck_ it at me, or I will actually die. Throw it like _this,"_ she then made a gentle upward tossing motion with one of the torches. "Got it?"

Kennith nodded. "Yeah, got it."

"Cool. Three, two, one!"

With that, Kennith threw the torch, sending it flying a little ways over Dizzy's head towards the audience. Just as the audience cried out in alarm, Dizzy reached out and snatched it out of the air. This jeopardized her balance, and as the unicycle started to topple over, Kennith rushed over and grabbed her other arm to keep her steady.

As Dizzy righted herself once more, Kennith started blurting out apologies. "Oh god, I'm so sorry Dizzy, I—"

"WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO, _KILL ME?!"_

"I-I mean hey, I didn't _chuck_ it at you, did I??"

 _"No,_ you CHUCKED IT AT THE _AUDIENCE!"_

"I said I'm sorry!"

The crowd grew restless, making various noises of discontent and anger. The sheer sound of it all made Kennith's heart sink. He suddenly felt smaller as opposed to the roaring crowd before him.

Dizzy sighed, transferring the flaming torch to her other hand, igniting the unlit torches as she did so. Ever the one to display her experience, Dizzy held a hand up to silence the crowd. "Okay, alright, hush. We can all agree that it was a stupid idea to give Kennith _fire,_ but at least everything's fine now. I caught it, and no one's hurt. Let's just move on with the show now, alright everyone?"

It took a few minutes, but eventually the audience quieted down. There were still a few upset murmurs here and there, but overall the volume had decreased significantly.

It was then that Kennith remembered to breathe. "Thank you," he sighed in relief.

"Don't mention it," Dizzy muttered with a roll of her eyes. Then in normal volume, she said, "Well, I'm about to start juggling! Hope you've got that gun ready, Kennith!"

"The—?" Kennith almost forgot about that. He scrambled to pick the toy off of the ground where he had left it, and fumbled uselessly trying to cock it. "Wait, hold on—"

"Aaand ready or not, here we go!"

Dizzy began her routine, juggling torches almost mechanically as she pedaled the unicycle across the balancing beam. Slowly but surely, inch by inch, she drifted across the wood, her eyes trained on the torches flipping in the air. Fire trailed and swayed far too close for comfort to her gloved hands, but her expression was unwavering in its focus. Even when making slight adjustments to her legs or posture for the unicycle, her face remained dead-set and determined. Despite the apparent skill needed to achieve such a feat, Dizzy didn't seem to be panicking. In fact, she made the act look _easy,_ as the fluidity of her movements appeared almost casual in nature.

Meanwhile, Kennith finally got his gun cocked. Guessing that it was his cue, Kennith shot a foam dart directly at Dizzy's head.

As the dart bounced off of her hair, Dizzy's movements stuttered for a second. But just as quickly, she resumed her routine. She said with some difficulty, "Try not… to aim… at the fire... please."

Kennith scoffed. "Won't be hard to do that while you're only a few feet in front of me. Geez, I'm not _that_ clumsy."

He fired another dart, and this one sailed straight past Dizzy through the circle of fire that resulted from the juggling. Continuing its path, the dart struck one of the microphones set up far behind the audience. A short spell of feedback then ensued, causing the audience to groan at the sound.

Kennith tried not to grimace. "Uhh… you know, on second thought, I _do_ have one eye covered right now, so…"

Dizzy's determined expression faltered briefly, and for a moment she looked like she was considering giving up and stopping the routine right then and there.

Thankfully, she didn't. Instead, she growled out, "Stand… _behind_ me… you idiot."

Kennith laughed nervously, already on his way to Dizzy's end of the beam. "Yeah, that's… probably a good idea."

The rest of the routine continued with little fanfare after that. It was mostly because the audience knew to stay quiet so that Dizzy could focus, but that didn't make the relative silence any less awkward. For a few minutes, the studio set was silent, save for the _thunks_ of the dart gun every so often.

As fun as his role in this act sounded at first, Kennith was getting bored. Fast. He sighed tiredly as he fired another harmless dart. "Hey, so," he spoke up, "I was thinking about learning how to juggle."

"...Okay?" Dizzy's tone was suspicious. "Really?"

"Yeah. But I'm a little worried that things will get _out of hand."_

There was a pause.

For a moment, Kennith thought that his joke didn't land, and he was about to laugh it off when suddenly…

"...Pfft."

Dizzy snorted, her shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly with laughter. Almost. This caused the unicycle to shake, and within seconds, Dizzy was struggling to keep her balance again. Realizing this, Dizzy made the decision to give up on being careful and just go for it. Practically flailing her arms just to continue juggling, the clown made a beeline to the end of the balancing beam.

Surprisingly, she actually managed to ride to the end. Unfortunately, she overcompensated in her desperate attempt, and as a result, flew off of the beam at high speed onto the stage. It was then that she stopped juggling, transferred all of the torches into one hand. Then, in less than a second, she extended that arm as far away from the rest of herself as she could. With barely any time to regain control, she slammed right into the wooden board used for the knife throwing trick from earlier. Then like a cartoon, she stayed splayed out and stuck to the board, suspended a foot off of the ground.

The audience gasped, and then resounded in a low ‘oooh.’ As much as Kennith was worried about Dizzy, he was now more than a little hesitant to rush over to her, judging by his past attempts. So instead, he continued to stand where he was and nervously fiddled with the toy gun. "You, uh... you okay there, Dizzy?"

On cue, she peeled herself off of the board and fell onto the ground, the unicycle clattering down beside her. She sat up with a groan and rubbed her head. "Yeah. Just peachy," she grumbled. "You pretty much threw me off, but hey, good job on telling an actually decent joke for once. I've never heard that one before."

After a short pause, Kennith approached the clown. "You want me to get rid of the torches for you? Because they seriously could've caused a fire just now," he said, forcing a small laugh.

"Yeah, hold on a sec."

Dizzy tilted her head back, opened her mouth as wide as possible, stuck out her tongue, and raised all three torches above her head. She then tilted the torches towards her head, and slowly let a breath out before closing her mouth around the flames. After a second, she opened her mouth again and removed the torches before casually handing them to Kennith.

Kennith nodded a few times, his own mouth pressed into a thin line. "And you can eat fire too. Cool."

"I mean not really, 'cause it's _fire,_ but okay."

"Yeah, ha ha, hilarious," Kennith sighed as the audience predictably laughed again at Dizzy's joke. “Anyway, here’s your gun back.”

“Nah, you can keep it. I’ve got a whole lot more in here.” Dizzy tapped her hat with her index finger.

“Oh. Well, thanks,” Kennith said woodenly, completely forgetting to sound appreciative at that moment.

As Kennith walked over to the pile of supplies to dispose of the torches and gun (which really meant throwing them haphazardly back in there), Dizzy watched him with a blank expression, tilting her head in confusion.

"Hey Kennith?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Being so... I dunno, _grumpy_ I guess?" Dizzy furrowed her brow. "Like, I know that _I'm_ being a little bit of a jerk right now, but you were acting like this before I started getting mad at you. What's up with that? I thought you were excited for this episode."

Kennith didn't turn to look at her at first. "Well, I mean, I _was."_

"And?"

Then, after slapping on a smile, he spun around to face her. "And nothing! There's nothing more to look into, don't worry!" he chirped.

"...You sure, dude?"

"Yes! You're just overthinking things." He forced another laugh. "I'm just... still a little down that I wasn't able to learn any circus tricks like I had originally planned. You know, being slightly injured and all that," he lied.

Dizzy pursed her lips, clearly not buying it. But despite her skepticism, she decided not to push this one. _"Oookay_ then, if you say so."

 _"Thank_ you," Kennith beamed, maintaining a chipper attitude. He strolled back over to Dizzy and offered her a hand. "Anyway, we're almost outta time, so let's wrap this up with one more act, okay?"

Dizzy hesitated, giving Kennith a hard stare, searching for something in his expression. Something that would betray a hint as to what he's thinking. After a moment where she couldn't find anything of note, she grabbed his hand and stood up, deciding to play along for now. "Sure, okay."

"Great! Mind if I make a suggestion?"

"Yeah, shoot."

"How about you end the episode with some _tightrope walking?"_

Dizzy made a face, regarding the high wire above the set with a dull look. "You _really_ wanted me to use the tightrope this entire time, huh."

"That's why I built it right into the stage, yes!"

"And you said you didn't plan anything."

"I didn't!"

"Yeah, as if I would be able to teach you how to tightrope walk in one episode?"

"Hey, I mean, I wouldn't know!"

Dizzy shook her head, allowing herself one actual, genuine smile for once. "You're so full of BS sometimes, Kennith," she said with a chuckle.

"Hey! Langua—" Kennith stopped himself as he realized something. "Wait. I think that one's actually allowed. Dang."

"Language."

 _"You_ of all people can't say that!"

"I actually can." Dizzy moved to the pile of supplies, selected an innocuous-looking white rope, and turned to walk towards the audience.

Kennith looked on in confusion. "Where are you going?"

"To the starting point, duh."

"But there's a ladder on this end, too!"

Dizzy shrugged as she began her trek up the seating area's stairs. Heads turned as she passed by, and she gave a few halfhearted waves in vague directions in response. "I thought it would be much more interesting if I started right above the audience. Gives things an added thrill right off the bat, you know?"

"I guess..." Kennith shifted his weight from side-to-side, suddenly feeling out of place in his own television show. "So, am I gonna need to help you out for this one?"

"Nope! You can just sit back and watch now. I've got this."

As soon as Dizzy said those words, Kennith immediately ran to the armchair beside the stack of TVs, practically throwing himself into it. "Oh thank _god,_ 'cause I'm still not okay after the knife-throwing thing. Freakin' _whew."_

He also didn't want to have to deal with Dizzy yelling at him whenever he tried to help, but he decided not to mention that.

Meanwhile, Dizzy didn’t quite like the sound of Kennith’s response. It was then that she made the decision to have Kennith be a part of the act after all. Biting the rope in order to hold it between her teeth, she started to climb up the ladder. She spoke through the rope, "Oh, so now you _don't_ want to participate? Make up your mind, man."

Kennith tsked. "That's a tall order."

"Ha! Guess you can't meet it then!"

"Pfft, yeah, I guess you're— _HEY WAIT A MINUTE_ is that because I'm short?!"

“And what if it is?” Dizzy asked as she finally pulled herself up to the platform. “Whatcha gonna do about it, little man?”

“Well, I’ll—” Kennith stopped short _(haha get it),_ finding that he didn’t have an answer to that question. He frowned. 

Dizzy saw his expression and laughed. Taking hold of the white rope with her right hand, she struck Kennith’s signature pose mockingly. “Thaaat’s right! You’ll do absolutely _nothing!”_

Kennith shot up out of his seat, now upset about something else entirely. “HEY THAT’S _MY_ LINE! AND _MY_ POSE!” He started towards the pile of supplies with renewed vigor. “Okay, now you’re gonna regret giving me that gun, ‘cause I’m gonna use it to ruin your act!”

“Not if I make it to the other side before you do!” Dizzy announced with a grin. It was easier to convince Kennith to participate in this act than she thought. After throwing her head back for an evil laugh, she continued, “Alright, ready or not, here we go!”

As Kennith went to work, trying to find the toy gun that he so carelessly tossed into the immense pile of circus tools, Dizzy began her journey across the tightrope. Still skilled as ever in balancing acts, like she had demonstrated time and time again, it almost appeared as though she were gliding across the thin wire. Just to push the envelope, she stood on her toes like a ballerina, which, although considerably slowed her pace to a crawl, was impressive enough to receive another round of applause from the audience.

While this was the reaction that Dizzy wanted to get out of the crowd, the sound of it made her pause. She furrowed her brow. It was such an odd thing to think about, but for some reason, the cheering sounded… off. Despite hearing applause nearly every day because of her career, she just couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong. Was it the tone? The volume? The energy?

Well, whatever it was, it was seriously bugging her. Maybe the crowd wasn’t impressed _enough._ Now that just wouldn’t do.

“Dizzy?” Kennith called. Once the clown had lifted her head to look at him, he went on (with very audible caution this time), “Is something wrong?”

As expected, Dizzy brushed off his concern with a glare. _“No,_ STOP RUSHING ME!” she yelled. Unlike last time, Kennith didn’t flinch from the volume of her voice. “I’m just… you’re taking too long finding that thing! I’m getting a little bored up here, you know?! How about _you_ hurry up, huh??”

Kennith just gave her a dull look. Maybe he should just stop caring. “Hmm. Okay,” he said before returning to his search.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Dizzy readied the rope she had been holding by grabbing the other end of it and flinging it behind her like a jump rope. “Ever considered that _you’re_ the reason your timed challenges never finish completely? Maybe if you quit rushing people, you could actually get things done!”

“You’re not being timed, Dizzy. And this isn’t a challenge,” Kennith replied calmly.

Dizzy swung the rope over her head before skipping over it several times. First with both legs, and then with one leg, alternating between her left and right ones. All the while, she continued moving forward across the tightrope. “Oh, isn’t it? Didn’t you say that the challenge was for me to do multiple acts all at once?”

Kennith heaved a sigh. He took care to not look at Dizzy as he pushed more supplies aside. “It’s not really a challenge if you can do _literally everything,_ right?” he grumbled.

That seemed to have struck a nerve as Dizzy’s movements stuttered, and her eyes flashed with a sudden, newfound rage. “Kennith, you fucking _idiot, I can’t do_ **_everything—!”_ **

And then the unthinkable happened.

Dizzy _slipped._

The momentary lapse in concentration caused her to lose her balance, and time seemed to slow as she plummeted to the floor below. Her one saving grace was that she had managed to traverse the rope to the point where she was walking over the stage, but that still meant that there was a wooden floor quickly coming up to meet her. A solid, _hard_ wooden floor.

In a last-ditch effort to keep herself as uninjured as possible, she righted herself so that her legs were beneath her, like a cat, just before she landed on the stage floor. While this saved her from any injuries to her upper body, the sickening _crack_ that resounded from her legs wasn’t anything to be grateful for. She stumbled forward onto her arms and knees, crying out as searing pain shot up through her whole body.

For a moment, Kennith stared numbly at the sight, mouth agape, and his ability to breathe completely forgotten. Then he regained his senses in an instant, running over to Dizzy and kneeling beside her. Once he reached the clown, he kinda just... braced his hands in front of himself uselessly, as he found himself utterly lost on what he’s supposed to do. 

Through the plethora of colorful expletives that spewed out of Dizzy's mouth, Kennith spluttered, _“Oh my god Dizzy,_ holy crud, oh god oh god _what do I do,_ holy hecking hell, _what the f—”_

Dizzy stopped her recitation of every swear word in the English language to scream, **_“CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE YOU IDIOT!”_**

“Uhhh okay! R-Right! Yeah okay so—” Kennith faced the camera, trying his best to tune out the distressed sounds of the audience. “I guess we’re gonna have to end the episode here, guys! Sorry about that! And uh—” Still kneeling, he struck his signature pose with only his arms. “M-My name is Kennith Simmons, and this has been COLOR-TV! Join us next time, and remember: I’ve always been—!”

**_“KENNITH!”_ **

“Okay _okay,_ I’m going!!” Kennith stood up before heading towards the curtains. He made a cutting motion with his hand to his neck while looking at the camera, as if to say _cut the signal!_

And cut the signal he did, as the broadcast ended shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a fun list of the videos that I referenced to write this chapter!
> 
> Act 1: http://www.circopedia.org/Crazy_Monroe_Video_(c1965)
> 
> Act 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2I8pP2WMPE
> 
> Act 3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hsYozlhObQ
> 
> Act 4: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qAFgQPUVac
> 
> Act 5: http://www.circopedia.org/Harold_Alzana_Video_(1966)  
> http://www.circopedia.org/Osinskaya_Video_(1995)


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